Memorial

The wild October sky Rises not so high, The tree's roots that creep Into the earth's body thrust not so deep As our high and dark thought.

Yet thought need not roam Far off to bring you home. The sky is our wild mind, Your roots are round our spirits twined, To ours are your hearts caught.

O, never buried dead! The living brain in the head Is not so quick as you Burning our conscious darkness through With brightness past our thought.