An Octopus

In the distant water, as it arises, The spiral motions gather like company,
So solemnly foreshadowing Playing around With limbs magnificent, bright ensuing.

The rhythm presents such disorders, The many shapes branching between Riptides and tranquil waters. Yet the dark glimmer constantly resets.

How upon that depth yet tossed
A force webs inner quibbles, Breaking all the bones of paradise, While seeking quietude, Leaving out the sides of the mind.

• Marianne Moore