No Eyes

The eyes are closed in death. Hollow men are blind. So there are never tears, there is never care, no reason for despair. I cease to see the sunset. Must I also then forget all sensation and regret? And will I know you there, or is it like we never met? Is there no poetry, never more to comfort me, a metronome's infinity? Does silence recompense serenity without pretense? Is there finally peace, will war and hatred cease, will blindness find release? Beyond my final breath, my eyes are closed in death.