Untitled

I will make for you a study
of small obsession and delight
I will bury it in decades
I will feed it deeper light
It will grow as stranger fungus
It will spread beneath old dirt
It will bloom on farther hillsides
It will know its own birth hurt
It will learn to speak in voices
It will build its speaking place
It will stand on its high temple
It will mark its holy space
We will hear it past horizons
with future revolutions gone
We will draw its constellations
when its time for dirt is done
We will say it was our study
of obsession and delight
and will wonder what to speak of
in a calmer
and empty light