One of my favourite poems –
The day droops, limps over the silent floor
Of this uncertain room.
Out of the centre of the world or eye
Where amber pebbles lie or little plants
Or tree roots stretch past gravity,
Tiny reverberations climb,
Attain the stolen spaces
Where light strives to be,
But feebly shines.
There are no shapes of man
But wavering shadows in the rain; quivering.
The dog barks, his terrors are in me.
Do not listen to echoes or watch the rain.
We are maimed but must call up Merlin
Near by the hushed river,
Listen carefully for cell-like sounds,
Attain to particles of sense,
Pass by wayward tremors.
Do not fall into insidious infiltrations;
Remember you are dying.
What the fingers have found
But light cannot be invented.