Selected Poems (Aiken)/The Room

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THE ROOM
Through that window—all else being extinctExcept itself and me—I saw the struggleOf darkness against darkness. Within the roomIt turned and turned, dived downward. Then I sawHow order might—if chaos wished—become:And saw the darkness crush upon itself,Contracting powerfully; it was as ifIt killed itself: slowly: and with much pain.Pain. The scene was pain, and nothing but pain.What else, when chaos draws all forces inwardTo shape a single leaf? . . .
           For the leaf came,Alone and shining in the empty room;After a while the twig shot downward from it;And from the twig a bough; and then the trunk,Massive and coarse; and last the one black root.The black root cracked the walls. Boughs burst the window:The great tree took possession.
              Tree of trees!Remember (when time comes) how chaos diedTo shape the shining leaf. Then turn, have courage,Wrap arms and roots together, be convulsedWith grief, and bring back chaos out of shape.I will be watching then as I watch now.I will praise darkness now, but then the leaf.

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