Grace/The Elegance

Running helter-skelter through my new life,
Skipping and sliding around, 
Feeling blind sometimes, and then
Through Grace, found,

I hold the Book of Stories in my hand - 
The grand span of imagination and all the fictions
That succeeded in filtering through Genius and Muse
onto paper, into physical Time.

I clamber up onto the giants’ shoulders,
All those who have chosen to go quietly inside,
Recognise, allow, accept, meet
And converse with their selves,

And read about all we bring into life
And take back through death:
Compassion for and union with the organism;
How, having witnessed up close, through stillness,

Words and impressions so self-evidently beautiful,
And the divine fleck of light in the animal’s eye,
We are moved beyond the compulsion to record, keep, store in story
For it is already complete and exists for its own glory.