“Light breaks on secret lots,
On tips of thought where thoughts smell in the rain;
When logics die,
The secret of the soil grows through the eye,
And blood jumps in the sun;
Above the waste allotments the dawn halts.”
More from Dylan Thomas
“To surrender now is to pay the expensive ogre twice. Ancient woods of my blood, dash down…”
“This is the world: the lying likeness of Our strips of stuff that tatter as we move Loving…”
“Which is the world? Of our two sleepings, which Shall fall awake when cures and their itch…”
“Time passes. Listen. Time passes. Come closer now. Only you can hear the houses sleeping…”