Nothing is ever over

Nothing is ever over; nothing
is ever even begun. The foundation
hasn’t been laid; how can we hope
to put in the plumbing? The bed
is unmade, not even made; the wood
hasn’t been cleft from the tree;
the seed hasn’t been cast
out of water and growth and sun,
which itself hasn’t started shining.
The cock has never stopped crowing
because he never started. Peter
betrays us again and again with
silence. Christ wakes up at night,
choking from a bad dream, wrists
aching from a dreamt, torturous pain.