Of Mere Being - Wallace Stevens

[Larry Robinson]

Of Mere Being

The palm at the end of the mind, 
Beyond the last thought, rises 
In the bronze decor, 
 
A gold-feathered bird 
Sings in the palm, without human meaning, 
Without human feeling, a foreign song. 
 
You know then that it is not the reason 
That makes us happy or unhappy. 
The bird sings. Its feathers shine. 
 
The palm stands on the edge of space. 
The wind moves slowly in the branches. 
The bird's fire-fangled feathers dangle down.            
 
	- Wallace Stevens