It’s said, though it may be surmise,
before we meet our full demise,
one unexampled sense still lies
ahead of us: sufficient final recompense
for all incarnate life’s bewilderments:
the utter dissolution of defense.
A gentle flood resolves our last anxiety,
exacts no toll, no numbing false satiety
or peace. With a delicious impropriety
we’re interested at last.
We’re interested at last.
Interested at last.