Ends and Means

(for Seamus Heaney)

A far better poet

Wrote it:

The end of art is peace.

The line hooked in

The mind for

The mind looks

Forever for

Translations in experience

Interpretations in experiments

Of thought,

In thoughts condensed

Into dots

Of ink on

Paper.

A warning?

A goal?

Is the death

Of conflict

The death

Of art? What a dire

Cancerous side effect of

Endless light.

(or)

Perhaps not so terrible,

This bland, boring terror.

The quiet death

Of art, closed eyes

In a hospice without its

Driving engine

Of conflict to keep

Its heart beating.

Surrounded by ones

Loved long

Whispering memories

Of times

Long loved.

Art’s eyes closed forever

In peace.

A goal, perhaps?

The glorious goal of art

Is peace.

Our endless attempts to

Empathise with ourselves,

Understand each other -

What else could the ultimate

End of art

Possibly produce but

Peace?

Or was it just a

Simple statement of

Complex fact?

A single line

Hooked in my mind

Forever, for a far

Better poet

Wrote it.