Nothing is ever over; nothingis ever even begun. The foundationhasn’t been laid; how can we hopeto put in the plumbing? The bedis unmade, not even made; the woodhasn’t been cleft from the tree;the seed hasn’t been castout of water and growth and sun,which itself hasn’t started shining.The cock has never stopped crowingbecause he never started. Peterbetrays us again and again withsilence. Christ wakes up at night,choking from a bad dream, wristsaching from a dreamt, torturous pain.