He went through a company like a lamplighter –
see the dull minds, one after another,
begin to glow, to shed
a beneficent light.
He went through a company like
a knifegrinder – see the dull minds
scattering sparks of themselves,
becoming razory, becoming useful.
He went through a company
as himself. But now he’s one
of the multitudinous company of the dead
where are no individuals.
The beneficent lights dim
but don’t vanish. The razory edges
dull, but still cut. He’s gone: but you can see
his tracks still, in the snow of the world.