22 JULY 1966, Page 32

Alteration

The fickleness of things—

The shed leaf, and the dropped Banana skin. Things change And we are altered—flat On our backs, looking up At the drilling squadrons Of remote galaxies.

I send you a message, Star. Can words be lifted Out, over light years, through All the empty blackness? They can. We are the two Halves which make this event, The high and the humble.

The point is to find it—

The way of being. Will I ever yoke these stiff And brittle bones to the Rhythm I speak and speak of?

It is hard to be sure.

The heel slips. The leaf falls.

EDWARD LUC1E-SMITH