The heavy air, and the oppressive cloud
disclose a distilled doctrine in the torrent
and tempest that assault the curving bayou,
that speak a mysterious language of their own.
The changing colors of the whirling heaven
describe a drama that has been told several
different ways over the wandering centuries,
but somehow always finds a new expression.
Thus the mere aesthetic of a brief dream
confuses both the poet and any thinker
while hinting at an eventual exaltation.
But the loose association of false images
gives the flavor of an unspeakable truth
which has eluded us in what is observed.
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