Machete in hand, slashing at the undergrowth;
a titanic struggle to penetrate deeper,
fighting snakes and tigers on the way.
Craning the neck, straining to see ahead,
and always expecting the dark entangled maze
soon, in a moment, to open on the unknown clearing
which must be there, where the god must be found.
But there is no clearing in this jungle.
Above it is sky, beneath it the earth,
to the north, desert, to the west, sea;
so cease the struggle, leave the frantic fight
and recall that the unseen wind blows free
around you, behind and beyond, above;
and deeply breathe it in and be revived -
but don't regret its course on through the trees,
around you, and away, and out to sea.
1981
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