Inspiration to mind
Small bird, flying each day to the well
in search of water within your reach,
one dawn, the bucket will be hauled full
so you can bathe and drink your fill,
unsure on what disposition the gift
depends, but sustained by its thrill.
Mind to heart
Try to possess just one clear feeling,
not a clot—a single stream or shoot
of falling, mountain water, which pools
silt-settled in a deep-green spot,
apart, shot through with sunlight to
the bottom, where fish wreathe the rock.
Eye to hand
Regarding beauty, the world will not recite
or recollect my gaze transfixed upon
the full moon rising out of a phosphorous sea,
the coliseum, pyramids, or shrine at Delphi,
my lover’s look, my child’s wonder at the sun;
servant of sight, take up your pen and write!

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This article originally appeared in The New Criterion, Volume 17 Number 6, on page 39
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