Our images withdraw, the rose returns
To what it was before we looked at it.
We lift our looks from where the water runs
And its pure river once again, we write
No emblems in the trees. A way begins
Of living where we have no need to beat
The petals down to get the scent of rose
Or sign our features where the water goes.
All is itself. Each man himself entire,
Not even plucking out his thought, not even
Bringing a tutored wilfulness to bear
Upon the rose, the water. Each has given
Essense of water back to itself, essence of flower,
Till he is yoked to his own heart and driven
Inward to find a private kind of peace
And not a mind reflecting his own face.
Yet must go deeper still, must move to love
Where thought is free to let the water ride,
Is liberal to therose giving it life
And setting even its own shadow aside;
Till flower and water blend with freedom of
Passion that does not close them in and hide
Their deepest natures; but the heart is strong
To beat with rose and river in one song.
Beyond Possession, ELIZABETH JENNINGS
