There is a moment
when I’m feeling that
intensity of things
being —
somehow: right;
and the indwelling
of spirit, that
enthusiasm — the
en theos, in god,
is there.

But, to the realm of
controlling destinies
I don’t know if
it is there, this
godly sense. But
rather the thrill
of a richness of
potential discovering.

I feel I can find it,
know it, uncover it.

It is the sense
of finding love —
“Oh, the new love…”
as Rimbaud intones.

Or it is that other,
the exuberant exhilaration
of the open hand, the open
mind. And that, at the
sensing of idea and
creation, a mixture
of learning — that which
comes openly.

But I seek that
delirium — the moments
of energetic attention:
I come to it, the new
heart, an archaeology
of an instant, when
breathlessly brushing
aside the sands of
buried time, some
thing new
is there.

An adventure begins,
and I step into it,
leaping to the risk
of unknowing.

In seeking just that:
the knowing.

Tim Girvin