The point of no return was reached
Some years ago, the dividend was earned
And spent without regard
And now at last, the fire burns
So low that smoking unseen odors,
Mask slight glimmers in the hard
Unyielding quarter of his life not lived

Contempt, he comprehends at last
Is only in the gift of the receiver
To endure. And to the giver is awarded
The right of last refusal. The obscure acceptance
Of tithes and times, the phrase that rhymes
Rings hard upon the river stones
And echoes through the empty rooms.

This is the Threshold then; the door ahead
Firm shut against the choices. The lifeless
Voices in his frontal planes, more real in turn
Than all the living may confirm, and in their
Spheres and whispers of coincidence.
There are few options after all
Above the hooded altars in the stars.