In The Light of Love

As dust the mirror, smoke the fire,
All is hidden in fear and desire.

As I lie here in bed, feeling darkly oppressed,
It is merely the tombstone that lies on my chest.
And if now I feel sorrow, or longing or rage,
At least my heart is awake to the bars of its cage.

For if there is longing,
It is longing for that which can never
Ease the longing.
And if there is terror,
It is terror for that which is
Not terrible.

Rivers always in flood pull me from
One bank to the other, to this bank from that other.
And seas ever restless throw me up
Onto this shore or another.

Yet if I do not struggle against the flow,
But allow the tides to take me,
Let the currents guide me,
The rising wave will pick me up
To hold me in its translucent curve,
And through such power
Reveal the light,
Finally to set me down,
And lay me gently upon the same shore
From which I departed.

And all will seem changed.
Yet wholly familiar.
Opened in this way,
Commonplaces return miraculous.
Every sight mesmerises.
Sounds arrest and overwhelm.
Each touch, each taste endlessly absorbs.
Smell transports me
Through time through space.