Quiddity Poem by James Mills

Out of what has gone before
We hang by threads of destiny;
Too late to change or to restore?

Each blemish serves to underscore
That judgement will come certainly
Out of what has gone before.

Quartered in some secret store
Rots each close discrepency;
Too late to change or to restore.

Our quiddity, our very core
Is weighed and measured constantly
Out of what has gone before.

What's life, but having to explore
What's past, and that it need not be
Too late to change or to restore.

Abjure all things that we abhor,
Expel venal vanity
Out of what has gone before.
Too late to change or to restore?