A thriving weed behind a dog-proof fence
A writhing dog behind a screen of weeds
The street needs people less and less
Their brave pursuits, their wretched deeds
They think the street is there for them
To bear their feet, to bear them on
"But bear with me," the pavement says
"I'm here at night. I'm here at dawn.
When you are here and when you're gone."
The Conduit communes with the metaphysical realm, channeling spiritual energy. He serves as a ritual messenger, our intermediary to the divine and liaison with the muses. Is he a metaphor or a functionary? Is he symbol or vessel?
"I would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo, and if an echo sounded, no matter how faintly, I would send other words to tell, to march, to fight, to create a sense of hunger for life that gnaws in us all." —Richard Wright
AND who art thou? said I to the soft-falling shower,
Which, strange to tell, gave me an answer, as here translated:
I am the Poem of Earth, said the voice of the rain,
Eternal I rise impalpable out of the land and the bottomless sea,
Upward to heaven, whence, vaguely form'd, altogether changed,
and yet the same,
I descend to lave the drouths, atomies, dust-layers of the globe,
And all that in them without me were seeds only, latent, unborn;
And forever, by day and night, I give back life to my own origin,
and make pure and beautify it
(For song, issuing from its birth-place, after fulfilment, wandering,
Reck'd or unreck'd, duly with love returns.)