Place-bound and time-bound in evening rain

And bound by a sound which does not change,

Except that it begins and ends,

Begins again and ends again—

Rain without change within or from

Without. In this place and in this time

And in this sound, which do not change,

In which the rain is all one thing,

In the sky, an imagined, wooden chair

Is the clear-point of an edifice,

Forced up from nothing, evening’s chair,

Blue-strutted curule, true—unreal,

The centre of transformations that

Transform for transformation’s self,

In a glitter that is a life, a gold

That is a being, a will, a fate.