The ending is the clang of cans or a casket door closing.
For a feel for narrative and a sense of place,
go back to the beginning.
I left the choir since I couldn't sing.
I gave up tennis -- couldn't hit an ace.
The ending is a wrong note, a shelved racket, a door closing.
Now I'm a teacher who believes my teachings
and all my ideas could be way off base,
so I'll go back to the beginning.
In one Elizabethan tragedy they imprison the King
for bringing his wife daisies instead of Queen Anne's Lace.
The ending is the echo of a dungeon door closing,
and like a rain cloud, it hovers, menacing.
The world is an epic poem that began in medias res,
and we're still searching for the beginning
of a song that will remedy our suffering,
and for some form we can warm to, some pattern to trace.
The sad ending, even for a king, his eyes irreversibly closing,
is a mad desire to go back, back, back to the beginning.
