227

                   The ashes of an unseen fire
Seemed to rise out of the dim
        Space before me, and the barrage
Of drums and banshee horns
         Fade and gutter, until two voices
Remained, mutually held in the
         Alloy of one duration : a vibrato
Interval that suspended itself across
          The vault beyond me, collapsing
Into eddies of half-formed arpeggi :
        Now in parallel, now in fugue,
Now in a low counterpoint that would
Gradually build itself only to fall back
Into a strained and latent harmony.
        As these voices faltered and drew
Near the threshold of silence,
      An explosion occurred : the report
Of a single screaming trumpet,
             Then an arc of white light that
Broke across the surface of the
                 Far dark causing it to buckle
And coruscate like iron under the
       Heat of a forge. It was as if a great 
Mass of fused points of light 
   Were crashing through a membrane
Of slight construction : the very fabric
   Of the lightless deep shuddered and
Rent in places and cataracts of
       Molten whiteness poured forth as
From bulletholes in a black pail.

226

                I turned my body—in place,
As would a dancer at the apex
                Of a saut—from the darkness.
There was a sense of motion
        That I could not define, and then
A cataclysm : the totality of sound
        Seemed to crash in on me, first the
Jangle of a struck mandolin
        Hung quivering in space, then in an
Instant a confluence of strings
        That seemed to light disparate fires
In the murk ; following, a colossal
        Blow upon the piano that recoiled
Darkly into its own lower register,
        Held at once within a structure of
Thunderous drums and bright cymbals.
     As these colliding elements began to
Galvanise they were utterly overcome
    By an inchoate, monstrous howling
Of wordless voices and saxophones :
    A mordant and dissonant tide of
Ululating noise like the expression of
    Some primal and ineluctable force.
    It was as if I had been addressed
    From the obscurity by the very anima
    Of the universe, in an unmediated
    Language that I could not hope
    To comprehend. The dark seemed to
            Swell and prickle with far lights.

225

As he turned away from me I felt
Myself fall back from the room
Until I was some distance from it
    In the darkness. I could see
    The interior, lit as if of itself,
Hanging in the emptiness like a great 
Fire-balloon sent up into the night.
No stars were visible beyond the
Lighted place: it was as if making
My way on foot through the deep
Country during the darkest hours
Of night I had come upon a dim
    Garden, at the end of which
Lay a broad window and inside a
Bright scene to which I nonetheless
Could have no access : a glow
Touching the flowers and falling,
Diminished, before my weary feet.
    I felt as far from my birth as
At any time in my life, as I watched
My child-projection grow smaller
And less distinct, as I watched the
Steady light of my old bedroom
Recede into an enveloping dark.

As the room became no more
            Than a point of light, I felt
A tremor in the air around me—

224

            Into the now-distinct arena of
The lighted room came a third party
That seemed to originate in my own
            Person : a trembling and hazy
Projection of my body as it
Was in my childhood that went
Before me into the space, trailed
Vaguely by a grey aura as are
Images transmitted through static or
Exposed to too much light. This
Child-body seemed to move without
            Force : as it advanced into the
Room my own vantage drew back
In proportion until the projection
Occupied the centre of the room and
I found myself outside the threshold.
The features of the child were not
Distinct but I recognised his posture
            And his gait as being my own.
Further, there was some unspoken
Sense in which he communicated to
Me his knowledge of our shared self.
Sitting himself on the wicker chair,
He turned to me : as our gazes met
For an instant, a flood of images
Cascaded before my eyes, ending
Abruptly as he looked away beyond
          The thin partition of the walls.

223

This sense lasted only as long
As the last vestiges of the limbic
Void remained : soon my vision
Was presented with an integral
Reproduction of the room that
I had known, a facsimile that
No longer reacted to the touch
Of my thought by reconfiguring,
But stood consistently of itself.
    Only half-consciously, I felt
That the headrest against which
I leant somehow acted as a
Buttress for the rear wall that
    Lay out of sight behind me.
The seat and the trembling of
The floor of the carriage were
As foundations that put forth
An abstract support which held
My bedroom in place. The walls
Furthest from me found no
Counterpart, and they seemed
At times to vacillate, and the
Size of the room would not hold.

222

            As each attribute took its place
The object would seem to grow
Almost imperceptibly and at once
            To recede from me, as if by
Regaining the features of quotidian
Reality the bold structural lines
            Of its first raw form had lost
Some of their transcendent power.
            These lines of force no longer
Extended beyond the boundaries of
            The objects which they served :
As the characteristics of the room
            Took place, this naïve energy
Of self-construction shrank back
And became hidden behind the
            Tangible facade of the room's
            Outer surface. For the fleeting
Moment in which this schematic
View of my childhood was visible
            I felt as if I had gained access
            To a staging area of reality :
That this unmediated power
            Must lie behind all mundane
Experience, that somehow memory
Lived in every present moment of
            My life, willing each scene into
            Existence. I felt that perhaps I
Had never directly felt any of the
Sensations of my childhood, that
            They too had been constructed,
Passed down out of a senseless void :
That the present was perhaps only
            A prodigy of my living thought.

221

            Without yet opening my eyes,
            I watched the furniture of my
            Past life reconstitute itself
            As if under its own power :
Planes and vertices rendered at 
The slightest suggestive motion of
Thought converging into familiar
Shapes, finally making themselves
Known overtly to my consciousness,
As if by each speaking a soft word,
Every new presence consummating
A particle of the larger construct.

            As each object appeared to me
I had the impression of encountering
            It for the first time, and yet at
            Once of a rupture in the dense
            Fabric of the intervening years
Through which the object's attributes
            Seemed to fall. It was as if the
Haemorrhage of a communicating
            Membrane between two parts
Of my brain had allowed the fluid
Of association to torrent suddenly
            From one chamber to another.

220

    I allowed myself to drift
    Through a series of unformed
    Impressions that the memory
    Of my bedroom had provoked :
    As the dimming earth fell away
    Relentlessly beneath the wheels
        So too a vast terrain fell
    Past the portal of my interior,
    Lit here and there by images
    Many of which I had thought
        Lost in distance and sleep.

        I will not open my eyes,
        I thought, believing they would
        Flee once superimposed : that
        In the low light of the carriage
They would decay and be forgotten.
I held them before me wilfully,
So the feeling they communicated
Should not disappear. Gradually the
Frail structure of my bedroom
Began to assemble itself in the
        Cavity of my thought as if in
The form of a diorama. Walls rose,
Membranes of tenuous construction
Serving only to house the objects
Of my recollection. They lacked
Texture and lapsed when examined,
But held while the vivid objects
Of memory held their places as
The anchors of all contained within.

218

        As we were headed south,
        The sun as it set illumined
The opposite interior panel of
The imitation ebony laminate
That lined the carriage walls.

We came through a grove of
Willow trees that cascaded
Into a small pool, and their
Branches broke the light into
Fragments that swung wildly
Across the walls from north
To south. I remembered that
In my early childhood I had
Slept in the light of a magic
Lantern, which projected over
The walls of my bedroom a
        Parade of phantasms that
Rode silently through the dust.
Then I felt that I was calm.

In the aura of light that hung
Over the water, insects gathered,
Their bodies becoming aspects
Of its fulness, like particles of a
Fiery matter held in solution.

217

            I thought, in our loneliness
We sometimes fall out of this
Continuity of causes. At once
            It is as if our access to the
Communion of being had been
Interrupted, some cord severed,
            And for a while we can act
Only as would a device that had
Been disconnected from its anima.

Left without command or direct
    Imperative we are forced into
Extemporisation. The great lights
        Of our culture form a chain,
And that chain is our one hope.
We seek shelter in common loves :
        Rather to be loved than free.

It was becoming evening. Workers
Trudged home through the fields
In overalls and white shirts. Light
Struck the crown of a boy's hair :
Marigold! All else faded into blue.