Where is the Life we lost in living?

Where is the Life we lost in living?

Poetry is not an assertion of truth, but the making of that truth more fully real to us.

So I find words I never thought to speak In streets I never thought I should revisit When I left my body on a distant shore.

We see the light but see not whence it comes. O Light Invisible, we glorify Thee!

And through the spaces of the dark Midnight shakes the memory As a madman shakes a dead geranium.

The immature poet imitates, the mature poet plagiarizes.