THE COSMIC CRAFT37
Never abandoned or alone;
never remote or lost,
famous, unknown
upon Th'Circles tossed
seldom rising to th'Sky
or sinking to a main;
oft going off to die
but only to be born again
World hangs on hands
tossing her like a ball
down flat, interminable Fall,
through dark & withered lands
half lost amongst Th'Countless, Alls
around Th'Light of Once, World strolls
on what Fool's throw:
Rigmaroles rows on rows
circling, circling fore & aft
on & on She wonders through
within her fragile craft
between Th'False & Th'True
making her dizzying geometric Leaps!
towards wide-eyed Day
while destiny waits in her way
with midnights Time silently weeps
And always, blindly always: Hope & Faith
until even Th'Ultimate
destroys its Aftermath
& dares --forget!
while eyeless Eternity yet threads
with the exact precision
of a divine mathematician
through slumbering heads
and buds: The Continuing String
of Life's possibility
as quick Mortality
twills over us Spring!
^{37} Obviously overblown. But, however drawn out, the poem does belaboringly set up the rather abrupt conclusion neatly, nicely (and since it involves one of those shifts which I like to use in place of some more artificial device): I must stage it subtly (at leisure). That "shift" is from the tumbling planet in outer space to the rock-steady inner (space?) of that very same ball. Still, what to make of this poem? It's so full of lies, half-truths, middle-truths & endless absurdities --But I like it (that's always the point with me). Fourth 'quatrain' speaks of a boat. The penultimate 'quatrain' holds a compromise (by saying 'a divine mathematician" rather than 'The Divine Mathematician').