End Note

"... but once he does, something inside him never stops trembling."

Where will the beginning go when we end?
We wonder at each other as police
Wonder at the delusions of killers,
Killers at those of police, scientists
At everyone's except the lamplit drunk's,
Looking for his wallet. Makes sense to them.
They live for the transformation, the heap
Of indistinguishable ashes. No,
I live for it. Let's be candid, so long
As we're lying to each other, hoping

To race the rest to immortality
And be the one, true winner. What a loss!
To have won such loneliness as God would
Tremble at, like the mouse discovering
He has worked his way into the one true trap,
The one in which no one else like You lives,
No one like You even exists, nor has
Ever existed, in the lonely way
You do, have done, and will forever do.
Who will creation love beyond that end?