Only one thing does not exist: oblivion.
God, who saves the metal and the dross,
encodes within the prophetic memory
moons that will be and have already been.

It's all there. Thousands of reflections
that, between each dawn and dusk,
your face left and has yet to
leave in many mirrors.

And everything is part of that diverse
looking glass of memory, the universe;
staggering corridors which have no end

and doors that close after your passing;
only on the far side of sunset
will you see Archetypes and Splendors.