Light the first light of evening, as in a room <br />In which we rest and, for small reason, think <br />The world imagined is the ultimate good. <br /> <br />This is, therefore, the intensest rendezvous. <br />It is in that thought that we collect ourselves, <br />Out of all the indifferences, into one thing: <br /> <br />Within a single thing, a single shawl <br />Wrapped tightly round us, since we are poor, a warmth, <br />A light, a power, the miraculous influence. <br /> <br />Here, now, we forget each other and ourselves. <br />We feel the obscurity of an order, a whole, <br />A knowledge, that which arranged the rendezvous. <br /> <br />Within its vital boundary, in the mind. <br />We say God and the imagination are one... <br />How high that highest candle lights the dark. <br /> <br />Out of this same light, out of the central mind, <br />We make a dwelling in the evening air, <br />In which being there together is enough.<br /><br />Wallace Stevens<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/final-soliloquy-of-the-interior-paramour/
