Pied a Terre

Once within a break in brambly fields something stirred its fearful head in sleep: Though it be woman or child, work or vision something that dares not hold me in derision But till that lingering day bares your face with prating breath I bide my bane And even as I clear the brake, shift the trunks hosannas crop up before you every dawn. And someday as I have you in my arms in osculation's brimming nirvanic bliss, May I not then turn away empty handed though warm in your inane atmanic face Then as I wend my kindly way down the road pitch my tent on this terraqueous matter-mind Should I then go looking for my immortality through doors that are forever locked to me Or could I then lie upon nescience' impervious skies upon some smoky grass unmapped or husbanded And hear the awakening cries of spring born trees then get up to wind my way to some factory blast ©: T. Wignesan, 1957 (from the collection: Tracks of a Tramp. Kuala Lumpur-Singapore: 1961)