The Room

Through that window—all else being

Except itself and me—I saw the

Of darkness against darkness.

Within the

It turned and turned, dived downward.

Then I

How order might—if chaos wished—become:

And saw the darkness crush upon itself,

Contracting powerfully; it was as

It killed itself, slowly: and with much pain.

Pain.

The scene was pain, and nothing but pain.

What else, when chaos draws all forces

To shape a single leaf? . . .                          For the leaf

Alone and shining in the empty room;

After a while the twig shot downward from it;

And from the twig a bough; and then the trunk,

Massive and coarse; and last the one black root.

The black root cracked the walls.

Boughs burst             the window:

The great tree took possession.                          Tree of trees!

Remember (when time comes) how chaos

To shape the shining leaf.

Then turn, have courage,

Wrap arms and roots together, be

With grief, and bring back chaos out of shape.

I will be watching then as I watch now.

I will praise darkness now, but then the leaf.