(for Philip Henry Jones)
The lens of a poem challenges the dimensions of time in including lines within lines, in conjuring up the work of the past to partake of the present.
A poet locates life to one side in focussing on poetry’s nebulae, whose brightness shows up the intensity of black holes where experience and emotion are condensed.
It does not matter how stable the colours are if emptiness of meaning is revealed – the true and the hollow – and a pre-echo is heard in the creation.
‘Proffes y bardd II’
© copyright text and translation Mary Burdett-Jones 2022