from The Book of Images
And you wait, await the one thing
that will infinitely increase your life,
the gigantic, the stupendous,
the awakening of stones,
depths turned round toward you.
The volumes in brown and gold
flicker dimly on the bookshelves;
and you think of lands traveled through,
of paintings, of the garments
of women found and lost.
And then all at once you know: that was it.
You rise, and there stands before you
the fear and prayer and shape of a vanished year.
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