WEBVTT

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[APPLAUSE]

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I'll close with one last poem.

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And I'll be excited to visit
with you in the signing.

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Sometimes I dream of a steep
hill dotted with trees,

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where we--

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but who do I mean by we?

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--will one day find ourselves
sitting, staring out

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onto evidence of the end.

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It won't be sad.

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Nothing will have ended, but
what had already revealed

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itself to be insufficient.

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Small fires will burn
mounds of ember and ash.

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I keep trying to touch the name
of the feeling that will have

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settled in our bodies by then.

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After knowledge and
regret, after hope

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and steadier, more certain,
because more honest.

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More honest because we will by
then have seen our biggest lies.

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The final and most dire shatter
above us in the common sky,

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taking away everything with
them that needed to go.

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I see us there on the hill.

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Who do I mean by us?

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Some combing fingers through
the long tufts of grass.

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Others leaning
back on our hands,

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or hugging our own bent knees,
watching in the same direction

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out and down upon
the passive distance.

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All of us?

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All, I guess.

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Nothing remaining
to battle over.

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Nothing to hide.

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No rewards for what
we've long prized.

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I see us astonished, finally.

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And each differently.

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Some of the forest of us at
home in the silence, others

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talking softly in
our original voices.

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Thank you--

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[APPLAUSE]

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--so much.

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[APPLAUSE]

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