What Earth Might Say
Her light fled
—William Blake
Material particles:
a place for gratitude feels heavy as they search for you.
Everything to earth is an answer, for
a labyrinth of mirrors cannot hold her
close. Which city would you bother to fall down in?
Which set of darknesses would you take to a temple?
Oh: you’ve moved past religion
but still rely on a positive crush to make cinnamon
recede, as if invoking where
a harbormaster gets his bearings once again.
(A silent neutrino is one,
salient, who embellishes a featherless bed with new meaning,
cutting out malignancy of youth.)
Earth’s light dissipates into atoms unhexed
by light from an earliest good book.
They will keep their search up.
You may one day be able to escape.
Their proof is almost a new evidence
that wears itself on thinnest of sleeves
like untoward ambiance.