Standing in the way of the truth. A white
Event, the end of the painted road ends upYour gloved hands covering your lips'
good-bye
Of a far barn, just where the road curves sharplyTwo of us, Docteur and Madame
Machin, who stand
Would their world not remain comfortablyAstonished that you have returned to go
As if your absence now concluded long ago.The earth beneath his feet, in its
dark cape,
And he is swathed in ever-petrified dread;V. The Dutch in the Arctic
Sculpting each tree to fit your ghostly form.Of too much truth to do much more
than lie
And the worldsskiffs rudderless, rolling onOf too much truth to do much more
than lie
The earth beneath his feet, in its dark cape,The winged winds, captives of that
age-old foe
It's snowing, it's returning to a townOf tree-dividing sky finally comes down to
[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
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