This isn’t just a song. It’s a farewell, a descent, and a ritual all at once. Morrison starts by saying goodbye to a lover, but the words slip into something bigger. He’s speaking to the end of a season, the end of illusions, maybe the end of himself.
The End drifts like a dream. Visions of freedom. Ancient ruins. Innocence unraveling. It feels like standing on the edge of madness while the world tilts toward dark.
Halfway through, it breaks. The spoken passage is less confession than ritual. The father must fall. The old order must be destroyed. Only then can something new take root. It’s harsh, but myth always demands a sacrifice.
That’s why the song belongs to autumn. The heat is fading. The ground prepares for burial. Endings clear space for renewal, even if the song closes without comfort. The words repeat, the end, tolling like a bell. Not final. Just a signal that change has already begun.
Like Kashmir, this isn’t about travel in the world. It’s about the journey inward. Through endings, through darkness, toward whatever comes next.