It was the question on which we vacillated.
Was it time? And if not, when would it be?
Was it time to take up where we never left off?
Time to relent? Time to forget this mad attempt
to make our illustrations palpable?
Time to compose, if not a new symphony, then
at least some tunes through which we’d remember the age?
And surely nothing more than a few tunes.
For what else would we need to keep us all smiling?
That we couldn’t quite guess was in itself pleasing.
Our next destination was simply life.
It was off the beaten path, but somehow we’d both
get there, never intending to, by ellipsis,
hoping it would amount to something more
than the spirited culmination of our reading.
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