With the power of the soul
I aim to find myself
To be released
Or re-conceived
Into the love of beauty
Such that I might walk
To the top of the woods
Where the clearing welcomes me
Also, all of those
Who take a not dissimilar path
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Half-way there
Half-way home
Half-way to everywhere
With boys in black and white and blue
Same as it is
Same as it ever was
Half-way
To nowhere at all
A place on the coast
Space by the sea
In the surf
Before the swell
Half-way
To dining out
Half way to dining in
Without music playing
Same as it ever was
Same as it is
Half-way
To no memories whatsoever
A place by the sea
Space
To walk on the sands
With a smile for you
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Oh yellow bird
On river leaf
For that moment
You make me so so happy
Oh soft, pink rose
On green foliage
In that glimpse
You gift me bliss
Oh simple calm thought
In rested mind
With this peace
You and I are at one
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Such is the force of recovery
That I have walked into town
On three or four occasions
The green leaves on black
Suggests the same bitter experience
With the American coffee deliveries
Outside, or across from
The Consortium, I sit in a room
Called the library
Where the other customers apologise
For being too too noisy
With their knives and forks
Which reminds me
Of Mucknell Abbey, where
We were told to be quiet
With our cutlery, especially
Not to scrape too too loudly
Across the crockery
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To the top of the hill
First a jog
Slowing down
To a walk
As the incline steepens
Then, step by step
Sideways and forwards
Thinking of Keats’ Negative Capability
Before long
It is a crawl
Though not in the swimming sense
More a case of using all four extremities
For leverage
Of course the real problem
Is vertigo, that
And the thin air
Which decidedly interrupts the breathing
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