Imagine the final day of the Universe, and a chorus of voices speaking to the people who will live through it. That is the situation here. The speakers are a kind of cosmic companion, "mirrors" of human consciousness, who say they have already been grieving for us since the beginning of time. Because time is "transparent," they can see the heat death coming long before we can, even while the sun is bright and the grass is green.
The mood is sorrowful but tender. Images of thirst, a dry well, and rats in a glass labyrinth make the ending feel inescapable. Yet the speakers offer what they can: love, a wave, and company. You will recognize them by their eyes, which have been crying all the way through time. The last lines turn gently urgent: "wake up! it is morning." The poem asks us to meet the end with shared grief, not alone.