The poem begins with a small, almost practical act: someone rearranging an office. But the opening line blurs the idea of "office" and "work" so that the room and the labor seem to be the same thing. Then comes a strange detail: the speaker loses the door. Maybe the furniture has been moved so the exit is hidden, or maybe the speaker is so absorbed in the task that the way out no longer matters. Either way, the space starts to feel enclosed and private.
Putting books in order suggests a wish for control and calm. The last stanza loosens that control. Night becomes "a strange ink," as if darkness were a writing material that can turn thoughts into new shapes. The speaker doesn't resist this and says, "let the night be." The mood is quiet, solitary, and a little dreamlike, a mix of tidy order and welcome mystery, where organizing a room turns into a way of letting the mind change.