Волхв

Chapter 8

           IreadtheGreekpoemsandsawthemforwhattheywere;undergraduatepieces,withoutrhythm,withoutstructure,theirbanalitiesofperceptionclumsilyconcealedunderanimpastooflushrhetoric.InhorrorIturnedtootherpoemsIhadwrittenatOxford,inS.Theywerenobetter;evenworse.Thetruthrusheddownonmelikeaburyingavalanche.Iwasnotapoet.

           Ifeltnoconsolationinthisknowledge,butonlyaredangerthatevolutioncouldallowsuchsensitivityandsuchinadequacytoco-existinthesamemind.Inoneego,myego,screaminglikeaharecaughtinagin.TakingallthepoemsIhadeverwritten,pagebyslowpage,Itoreeachoneintotinyfragments,tillmyfingersachedandthebasketoverflowed.

           ThenIwentforawalkinthehills,eventhoughitwasverycoldandbegantopourwithrain.Thewholeworldhadfinallydeclareditselfagainstme.HerewassomethingIcouldnotshrugoff,anabsolutecondemnation.Oneaspectofevenmyworstexperienceshadalwaysbeenthattheywerefuel,ore;finallyutilizable,notallwasteandsuffering.PoetryhadalwaysseemedsomethingIcouldturntoinneed;anemergencyexit,alifebuoy,aswellasajustification.NowIwasinthesea,andthelifebuoyhadsunk,likelead.Itwasaneffortnottocrytearsofself-pity.Myfacesetintoastifffiercemask,likethatofanacroterion.IwalkedforhoursandIwasinhell.

           Onekindofpersonisengagedinsocietywithoutrealizingit;anotherkindengagesinsocietybycontrollingit.Theoneisagear,acog,andtheotheranengineer,adriver.

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