What's seen is seen, and cannot be unknown; and so he turned my soul, and turns it still. We'd walked a while, just him and us alone; we'd wandered up some ordinary hill. The air was cold. The conversation died. I wondered if I'd left the stove alight. The curtains of the world were torn aside, and naked glory overwhelmed my sight; and oh, the voice, that called to him by name, so comforting, so terrible to hear: that man I knew, the same, yet not the same, touches my arm, and tells me not to fear; but as I raise my eyes, the light is gone, and life, and something more, must carry on.