Being
taught of my capturing in the light
In
the midst of a painted picture I stood...
The
painter before me only just beginning
Being
made of nothing and as light as air
It
seemed I took up no space, nor yet paint
Nor
did I appear to him applying the brush
Seemed
he could not see me, nor did he guess
The
wonder of the marvel was made for him
But
I heard the painter’s heartbeat at his touch
Hardly
daring now to see I glimpsed his brush
Working
lightly down beside me a lovely green
And
all along my side I felt his willow’s leave
I
felt the brush of leaves and the tree he made
And
swift the river where it seemed I stood
It
was being painted all around me as I watched
At
my feet, a fleeing fish appeared, but with his
Tiny
brushstrokes sent out a fly on rod and line
And
the leaping trout was snared, and I was taken
From
his painted picture I was pulled and gone
Of
the Fisher King of heaven all caught away
Sent,
and sent again at his marvellous will: and the
Catch
of Two! In his rejoicing-instant the painter sees
His
own success and skill! The perfect picture painted!
Snared:
he sees! Taught ‘his own’ capturing of
the light!
*
