In the end, when all is finished,
And the task is all but done,
When the burden is diminished,
To what it was before begun.
It’s then that we can savour,
The taste of sweet success,
Let linger long the flavour,
And with confidence impress,
Be not bothered by the critic,
With his crooked rule of thumb,
Be not worried by the cynic.
With his surface level scum.
. In the end, the real end, all things being equal,
. What’s done is done … so deliver not the sequel.

© Tim Grace, 27 December 2010

To the reader: We begin, often with an end in mind. At end, we arrive at a moment of completeness. Completeness delivers finality and/or conclusion; possibly both. Conclusive moments ought to be rich with satisfaction and deserving of hiatus; time for a break. A self-satisfied pause should offer some protection from those who would wish to offer judgement… the artist steps back from the canvas.

To the poet: No doubt there was a particular incident that created my need to express frustration with an ending too abruptly injected with criticism. Get used to that. Responses to art are pretty quick to condense and find expression; the first impression says it all. The trick, I find, is don’t declare the ending too soon. Prepare the finish carefully.

all but done