The world is a wall of whiteness.
Air or stone watches me steadily;
I keep up the walking.
A chimney lets out wools of breath.
The first old tram,
Colour of sage,
Parts the diaphanous flesh.
For a long time
Outlines of distance are
Dissolving; the next yard is safe.
My bones carry a quiet.
Soon, they melt into farness —
An illuminated way through
The day, tomorrow,
Of love and meaning and golden skies.