The conspiracy of goodness that has been my life,
I recollect in silence.
For once my frustrated sighs are quieted,
In holy reverence.
Gardens grow on graves.
The true New World is my home and hope,
This shadow I have seen,
And loved and hated all my life will,
Only be a place I’ve been.
When beneath my vine, I fear not.
So the terror that now threatens me,
Is only another day, I find,
Another chapter in the tale,
A fine tapestry on the wall behind,
The inevitable, eternal feast.