Nor was his room
In the hospitable college
Where he would speak the next day
A comfort for his unease.
He placed on the table
His reading for the morning.
Prepared for the night
He lay without sleep.
Deliberately calm,
Anticipating nothing,
He was overwhelmed
By a revelation of mortality.
Nothing remained
Of the tangible carpentry
Of door and window,
Nor of the cathedrals implacable mass.
The sensuous world had vanished.
His hands grasped a felt nothing,
His eyes stared at a visible nothing,
Nothing surrounded him.
He had no hands.
He had no eyes.
He was aware only
That he experienced
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This article originally appeared in The New Criterion, Volume 22 September 2003, on page 37
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