Your visible world is a sea-cave,
samphire, pale marshland jewelled with salt,
fog denying distance;
in solitude you watch icy rain
sieving away dead weeds,
wait for clouds to rise
from vast inner horizons
& green truths of faith
to grow on the rock.
Crossing earth’s last river
will bring you no terror -
fear is already emptied, and all
fantastic dimensions of the universe
merely a dilapidated hut.
Collected Poems, Anvil, 2002 page 179