YES, THAT WILL BE
FINE, I AM QUITE SURE
Oh do I have a thing about these late-night
reveries. I stand up, too late, and far. My
mind goes away. What stays is merely me.
All good things to the fore, the world is
changed. I harbor no doubts or anguish.
Someday, I tell myself, I want to write a
thousand new pages in one of these sittings -
where the moon peeks in, and where all those
daylight birds outside my window are now
somewhere else in their dark.
There's a sound the night makes which speaks
only to my soul. Un-toiled and easy, I stay
awake thinking : family ties and not, stories
and lies, the lot. Every human parcel of what
I've ever been comes back to take a solace
in my being. Sense is grace in these terms.
No haste, no rushing, there is nothing.
That will be fine, I am quite sure.