All mystery eventually fades, if not into knowledge, then at least into memory.

[hobozeller]

ever afraid to go to sleep?
for fear of the morning,
or for dread of night.
Who looks for you waking,
who looks for you still in death.

Beauty is the turning curve,
the sloping brow,
the intelligent skies
and the infinite grounds.

Memory's well only deepens
and knowledge fades to nothing.