Letters to the Possible World: Bannock Point

I imagine in the possible world
Without awareness it is autumn
And hardly any tourists now come out

To the lookout, despite the hemlocks
And scattered gilded stands of birch. Am I
Right? You could take it as evidence

That you and I have shared the world between
Us, who can never be certain, however
Tempted, anything is beyond awareness.

The forests around the lake are changing
Out there; the stars, the ice fields,
All the things beautiful to us wheel

And burn, grow taut and collapse.
The punishment for never being
Around for dying, hence immortal

Awareness, always an as is, pace
Parmenides, isn't age or boredom,
Reserved for ordinary living. Peace

Is guaranteed to us, assuming you are now as I
Was. It is that we never get to transcend
Being, since we are, as we must be, being.