Blurred formations Of uncentered thought, Like slow-coursing clouds In a moon-flecked night, Move in my mind. A faint force Forever struggles here; Intimately close To that inexplicable core Which, held tight together By casual life-threads, Is known to me, All in all, As that which is I. Thus from within myself Unwinds this mystery, Drifting unceasingly Into a sphere of motion. A strange force So well attuned to the day-glare That it slips into strict precision As it joins the rank and file Of simple verities. Then again, Threading skywards Toward some wandering procession, It trails its dream-blown outline Through the silence Of shadow-stirring twilights. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SUMMER NIGHT-BROADWAY by LOUIS UNTERMEYER BEN KARSHOOK'S WISDOM by ROBERT BROWNING THE BOOK [OF THE WORLD] by WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN THE PESSIMIST by BENJAMIN FRANKLIN KING PALINODE; AUTUMN by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL |