Wild is the way, unclear is the day.
The seeping mottled sky passes me by
Opening before me the vista of a life:
A world of smell and sight and sound,
The portals of discovery all around,
I enter this world, this newfoundland:
The sheer vividness of colour abounds
Synaesthesia's all round visibility of sound,
Flesh and blood, heart and soul
All the half-created, half-perceived
Epiphanies of cloud and sky and sun,
Enter the mind and fly from the eye -
As kippering clouds come rushing by.
I grasp these perceptions, cling to the day,
Instress this texture, and wild is the way!.