This poem comes from his anthology 'Later Poems, 1972 - 1982,' published by Macmillan London
I have come to the borders
of the understanding. Instruct
me, God, whether to press
onward or to draw back.
To say I am a child
is a pretence at humility
that is unworthy of me.
Rather am I at one with those
minds, all of whose instruments
are beside the point of
their sharpness. I need a technique
other than that of physics
for registering the ubiquity
of your presence. A myriad prayers
are addressed to you in a thousand
languages and you decode
them all. Liberty for you
is freedom from our too human
senses, yet we die
when they nod. Call your horizons
in. Suffer the domestication
for a moment of the ferocities
you inhabit, a garden for us to refine
our ignorance in under the bouhs of love.
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