How odd, when teacher becomes pupil.
How startling, when a depth of meaning
Lay on the surface all along.

Wisdom, it’s said, is indistinguishable
From farce in the fullness of youth
Or unmitigated age, bent on redemption.

Could it be we’ve seen all of it?
No use adding footage to pore over
In search of cheap salvation.

There, written on a careless breeze
Was the whole of it,
Gone until the next moment.