The moment of truth

From beyond the shoulder of the hill,
at the hatching of the horizon,
the day closes in on me.
My moment of truth.
My day of reckoning.

Whatever I say or do,
Whatever I hear or don't,
Whatever I long to hear,
Whatever I leave unsaid,
The splicing of the moment,
The slicing of the moment,
On the chopping tray of  the day,
At the wrenching out
of the little red rose
in the crack of the wall,
the blood will be mine.
Mine, the pulling out
of the plug of life.
Each stirring in the forest
shall echo yet again.
Each leaf of autumn
fall yet again.
From dust to dream,
From dream to dust,
Yet again.