TRUE PROPORTION
I've run out of time : that same time
the lily has, and the flower which pushes
itself up through the ground; that April shaft
seeking light, the blistering effort to live.
All I have left is the strength of the proportion
of all things : the round modicum of the real,
the painted simulacrum of the imagined.
It is - all - like a masterful circus of the unknown -
characters in black-face, minstrels acting out fake
motion, mimes stretching muscles in tone.
Something watches, and something else applauds.
Passages and deliverance, both together, bring
all things this way. Home. Light. Ease. Rest.
I turn, one last time, to look back - only to
see the shadows, which are resting on the grass.
I've run out of time : that same time
the lily has, and the flower which pushes
itself up through the ground; that April shaft
seeking light, the blistering effort to live.
All I have left is the strength of the proportion
of all things : the round modicum of the real,
the painted simulacrum of the imagined.
It is - all - like a masterful circus of the unknown -
characters in black-face, minstrels acting out fake
motion, mimes stretching muscles in tone.
Something watches, and something else applauds.
Passages and deliverance, both together, bring
all things this way. Home. Light. Ease. Rest.
I turn, one last time, to look back - only to
see the shadows, which are resting on the grass.
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