William Carlos Williams — The Descent

The descent beckons                 as the ascent beckoned                             Memory is a kind of accomplishment                 a sort of renewal                                 even an initiation, since the spaces it opens are new places                 inhabited by hordes                             heretofore unrealized of new kinds—                 since their movements                             are toward new objectives (even though formerly they were abandoned) No defeat is made up entirely of defeat—since the world it opens is always a place                 formerly                             unsuspected. A world lost                 a world unsuspected                             beckons to new places and no whiteness (lost) is so white as the memory of whiteness With evening, love wakens                 though its shadows                             which are alive by reason of the sun shining—                 grow sleepy now and drop away                             from desire Love without shadows stirs now                 beginning to awaken                             as night advances The descent                 made up of despairs                             and without accomplishment realizes a new awakening:                             which is a reversal of despair                 For what we cannot accomplish, what is denied to love                 what we have lost in the anticipation—                             a descent follows endless and indestructible