III: Opening

After the fine grey rain
which the wind drives on in sheets
(as dullness drive on pain)
there comes a day which greets
the narcoticized difficult soul
with a strong and simple light
which purges what is foul
with moss and twigs and blight
(the neurotic and the mean)
of all that chokes its flow
until the basin's clean,
and then there's room to grow
(where the bank is thick and dun)
plants whose fledgling leaves
are shot through by the sun
to green transparency:
When the senses are awake
the soul begins to see.