Story-Borders
A twist of light,
a subtle knot,
has for some author vision caught,
leviathan upon a string,
where muses in their choirs sing;
and sure as France or England rise,
by treaty made,
this treaty by its magic words
lays lines of story through the skies,
turns sheep-like stars to ordered herds.
Unshaped,
unformed,
in chaos hurled,
the story-borders of the world
are formed by light:
a lamp,
a lantern,
here and there
entangled in the eddied air
shape their textures in the night.
