I was not aware of the dark chambers,
The blind walls, the unlit recesses of my mind.

How i rejoiced, as if
Among the glittering stars
I had discovered the milky way, or a full moon even...
Till the mild sun appears
Promising possibilities,
puts to an acid test
my ability to gaze at the dazzling display
Of the wholsome brightness
Or of the sheer splendour
Overpowering the senses.

I must confide, confess:
i had no visions of beatific bliss
But blessed is he who looks
at works of art,
In colour, words or sheer sound,
In the sudden spread of snows
On rugged peaks rising into high space.

How they instrust us
Help us discover windows
in grim walls
Shining spaces in dark chambers.
A fresh snowfall
A work of fiction
An encounter all enter the ego's domain
Define anew the routes
For thoughts and responses.

There can be no exemption
from the icy chill of winter,
The dull ambivalance
To a gusty passion,
The absence of relevance
to the truth you felt as sorely as a toothache.

You may have to eat your appetite
And drink many a desire,
Yet you will not deny
The gain.
After each encounter,
You cannot but sit down
and redraft the bargain
With your benign self.