Remembrance III

The wind of yesterday has passed
The burning ritual gone
And we of certain faith returned
Home to the land that no one knew as well
For we had seen it from the distances
And from the vantage heights of yearning
Home to the sweet fresh wind of the living
And the hope of the living
And to a keeping of the covenants of faith
By some new ritual begun

Beginnings have no end
In perfect things
But launch in the pursuing of perfection
Polar lights that flare a darkling sky
And as they flare
Are gone
Or gone
As memories are gone
While here dead monuments march on

While here dead monuments march on
And on and on the faultless ritual goes
The mourners' pattern sags
The pennants droop
Nudging a leaf along the gutter now
Is too much effort for the wind
I turn away
For me its work is done

I leave the marble gestures and the colonnade
I pick up my stride again
The whisper of wind at my back
Ahead I cannot see the winding of the street
Or where it goes
I only know I won
Just to turn away
I won.