No-Saints’ Night

         
          

          ...And in the blue sky, and in the mind of man:

A motion and a spirit that impels

All thinking things, all objects of all thought,

And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still…

                                                    from 'Tintern Abbey' by William Wordsworth

 

You’ve set me here, and no doubt find me frail

because I cannot reach the heights. I’m less than

perfect in your eyes. So be it. I can

do no more; don’t comprehend the scale

on which you work. That vast light blinds; you veil

yourself. Let mystics, then, unclothe you and span

eternity. Do what you will. I’ll scan

the slight horizons here that tell the tale -

those stars, the details of that master plan,

and in the blue sky, and in the mind of man

those normal bits of bright - the lives that wait

for death once they are born. A long night swells

around them as they shoot and fall, excels

the lesser seas that drown them here. It’s fate,

I hear? Oh, really? You’re no fool! Debate

that with yourself, then tell me what compels

you to lie so artfully. It’s what repels

me; we’re trapped by it, but you create

as freely as you will while in you dwells

a motion and a spirit that impels

you forward. Why not us? Wrapped in this caul

of flesh, we are still sparks of you. You taught

us that. These limits you impose are fraught

with hopes and freedom’s dreams, and so I call

you cruel, not paradoxical, to stall

us. What makes you do it? You said you’d brought

an ark with you, but leaving us distraught

and shipwrecked on all shores, you’re off to trawl

for gold. Then finding only that you’ve caught

all thinking things, all objects of all thought,

in those great nets, you play some more, then claim,

my child-God, that you have such goodwill

when catching fish. Not so! As those heaps fill

your hollow holds they heave and thrash. Proclaim

it how you will, they drown in air. One aim

is clear: pain doesn’t trouble you; you kill

because you can, as we do here. You chill

my thoughts, but fully expect that I’ll acclaim

your majesty, the never-peaceful will

that rolls through all things. Therefore am I still.