One thing does not exist: Oblivion. God saves the metal and the dross, his key Ciphers in his prophetic memory The moons to come, and moons of evenings gone. All there: reflections in the looking-gla** -Between the two huge twilights of the day- That your face has gone leaving where you pa**, And those it will go leaving on your way. And everything is part of that diverse Crystal of memory, the universe; Unending are the mazes it engenders Of doors that seal themselves as you walk through; Only from sunset's farther side shall you Behold at last the Archetypes and Splendors.