I cannot horse the dark concerns
That move into the timeless day. Say
It is easy to learn the lovelorn ways, to learn
The freckled longing, the phantom urge for what is not yet stone.
Disobey. Disobey. I try to disobey my looking for stops. Here, I will tell you
My conclusion. Here, in the noon shade, in this migrating truth, I wish for what is pure,
For what is not a loud confusion of wrong. For the way the world spins,
A design of sweeps and steps and turns.
All the sobering voices of my despair and all of these, well, these too-felt days.
We are mere creatures: we tower, we crawl, we cower, we saw.
We saw the way it could go. We pocket the touchless, the heartless, and more,
We corridor the periods of near-survival. We reform the weeds, seal the dark shade
Of monsters made, and marvel. We marvel at what is good. (Sometimes we need a good stare.)