We travel along a road
towards the destination of our death
to arrive at a terminus of one.
If fortunate we share the journey
but the towns and villages
they pass through
although sometimes similar
are approached from separate directions
and we pass them by
at different moments.
Thus through the windows of any heart
one sees the abbatoir
while another sees a field, the lamb.
This takes some adjustment
and an almost impossible level
of gracious understanding.