| When the feast is done and all is cleared away | When all is clear and away the feast is done |
| And we reflect on all that we have seen | And we reflect in love the gifts we have received |
| Flourishes of fine words that herald an ashen day | Hard words melted in the sun |
| Only walls where doors had been | Easy to stay and watch the flow of life |
| Yarrow sticks bagatelle Dice games | Easy to pick up a bag and travel on |
| Puppeteers pulled by strings | To wander drifting to the music of the wind |
| Lonely lines through places without names | Every one a sister or a brother |
| Woven into cacophony | Every atom connected to every other |
| Sad people awash and adrift | Lucky people flooded with sense |
| Abused by others lusts | Who have held gently then let go |
| And left with longing for familiar pain | Peaceful in the silence of the dawn |
| Nostalgia for comforting lies | In wonder at the subtle self |
| The table is empty | I have put everything before me |
| This is all and I am all there is | This is all and I am all there is |
