The world imagined is the ultimate good.

This beautiful poem by Wallace Stevens (1879-1955) always brings to mind scenes from one of my favorite books, Virginia Woolf’s To the Lighthouse, in which every character is linked together into one thing by a single shawl, an invisible connective thread.

A magical week with friends in Angel Fire, New Mexico. Spring 2019. Photo by Jorge. (And yes, those are stars!). 

“Final Soliloquy of the Interior Paramour”

Light the first light of evening, as in a room
In which we rest and, for small reason, think
The world imagined is the ultimate good.

This is, therefore, the intensest rendezvous.
It is in that thought that we collect ourselves,
Out of all the indifferences, into one thing:

Within a single thing, a single shawl
Wrapped tightly round us, since we are poor, a warmth,
A light, a power, the miraculous influence.

Here, now, we forget each other and ourselves.
We feel the obscurity of an order, a whole,
A knowledge, that which arranged the rendezvous.

Within its vital boundary, in the mind.
We say God and the imagination are one…
How high that highest candle lights the dark.

Out of this same light, out of the central mind,
We make a dwelling in the evening air,
In which being there together is enough