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Mysteries

Mysteries by Dannie Abse, Poems on the Underground 1994 ‘At night, I do not know who I am when I dream, when I am sleeping. Awakened, I hold my breath and listen: a thumbnail scratches the other side of the wall. At midday, I enter a sunlit room to observe the lamplight on for no reason. I should know by now that few octaves can be heard, that a vision dies from being too long stared at; that the whole of recorded history even is but a little gossip in a great silence; that a magnesium flash cannot illumine, for one single moment, the invisible. I do not complain. I start with the visible and am startled by the visible.'’

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