My contribution to The Second Annual Bloggers (Silent) Poetry Reading:
For Once, Then, Something
by Robert Frost
Others taught me with having knelt at well-curbs
Always wrong to the light, so never seeing
Deeper down in the well than where the water
Gives me back in a shining surface picture
Me myself in the summer heaven godlike
Looking out of a wreath of fern and cloud puffs.
Once, when trying with chin against a well-curb,
I discerned, as I thought, beyond the picture,
Through the picture, a something white, uncertain,
Something more of the depths--and then I lost it.
Water came to rebuke the too clear water.
One drop fell from a fern, and lo, a ripple
Shook whatever it was lay there at bottom,
Blurred it, blotted it out. What was that whiteness?
Truth? A pebble of quartz? For once, then, something.
Ever feel like if you could just sit still enough or be quiet enough or listen hard enough or see clearly enough, you would know the answer? Have a moment of clarity when it would all make sense and fit together? There have been two moments in my life when I thought I was almost there, but it always slipped away before the thought was fully formulated. Both times, the experience left me shaking, rather like the first time I watched the moon rise through tree branches and felt dizzy from the rotation of the Earth.
Of course, if you've read Douglas Adams, you already know that the answer is 42.