I will create a device (said the mechanic)
so that when vectors, like flies on a horse,
attack, you will keep steady course.
It will deliver incredible moment
simply by spinning in glimmering rings.
Tick-a-lock, I will say, and open a door:
I will enter, I will descend that long corridor,
and working by touch in the dark, and singing,
I will install my felix machina.
Then, though you go from dark planet
to dark, an arc like fish on the wing,
you will know your own weight:
Though the universe whirl in confusion around you,
your own whirring heart will hold true.
© Jack Butler