Epitath For A Cameraman Poem by Jean Bernard Parr

It's at the end you get
let in on the secret
of how it all fits
lets you die smiling
like a spring flower
of course it was there
staring me in the face
all along, but, and here
a final frown,
I was on the right
track, I knew it had to
be that, so brilliant,
stupifyingly simple,
so nearly there with
all the bits
the algebra in my head
the whole I missed
all my life Ive been
at the wrong end
of the zoom like
an awkward guest
at the wrong end
of the room
now Im nearly dead
this is the wide shot
the one that shows you all
as simple as a white rabbit
out of a hat
and now its too late
too late for tears, fears
I should have
I could have...