[And it will finally come]
And it will finally come to the word writ large
As a child can read when running
Which will bite into the wind like shears
Into soft metal.
It will be the flashing neon blowing colour
Into our eyes and moulding us.
Was it “When to the sessions of sweet silent thought”
My senses came, or else “The Big Wheat Country”?
But as the words are strung it is all done,
We do not need the eyes, ears and touch
Of all our yesterdays, but only need to be.
And our defenceless, softly moulded body
Will be shot with arrows painless and invisible
Carrying our needs or theirs.
When once Art had the arrogance to make
Our time stand still
It now has lower sights
And not approaching God is content with man