Let one just say that one prefers
To their pretentious Universe
How skill or accident deploys
The rich depth of the human voice
Come strongly out up from among
Lung-thresh, throat-clench, on to the tongue
That special instrument of thought
With which lost futures can be caught.

Always leaving one free to choose
What portion of the mind to use.
-Take human history, an immense
Portfolio of theres and thens
And check that Personality Cult
(With Unpersons one sad result)
While some who'd fought against the odds
Sought recognition as Ungods.
Then off to others that await
Contexts in which to replicate,
Free from each single obsessive train
Of thought, leaving an open brain.

For yes, these verses have ranged wide,
Caves, word-worlds, spectra-with the tried
And truly personal defences
For which the mind attuned the senses.
"Subjective?" - yes, say some who'd seek
To average out what's quite unique,
Whose winds and words can still outface
Negation with one warm embrace,
While lifespan, whether of days or years
Somehow up to a point coheres.
With open skies, hearts almost fit
To represent the infinite,
But no perspectives that suppose
Mind-maelstroms calming to a close.

          *****

Validities do not depend
On how their bearers fade or end;
With no conclusion on the way,
One needs the briefest holiday.
Inputs accumulating still
Find yet more questionnaires to fill.
And all these rhythms to satisfy...
One takes a breath...

And then - a sigh...