When the last elusive piece
Of the jigsaw puzzle is found,
When lightning nearby strikes
But of thunder there's no sound,
When the steady flowing river
Suddenly reverses its course,
When the swirling four winds
No longer blow from their source,
When the late afternoon sun
Makes no long shadows fall,
When the mighty oak grows stunted
And the weeping willow grows tall,
When in blackest night eyes can see
While in daylight vision is obscured,
When gravestones do no longer bare
The names of those interred,
When a myriad of things once constant
Are altered with ambiguity,
Perhaps then understanding comes,
And once again thoughts may be free.
sjk