Unremarked, now, I was the way

Beneath which water flowed

Too deep for market’s harvest

Too deep for children’s naked feet

Too deep to be the path

❊

Unremarked, now, the truth

That ancient numbers wrought

In circle-cousins’ arc

Would span the deep

And bring the bridging way

❊

And did, reflecting here

That only dense and sheer resistance

Of those dark materials

Harvests now my mossy sleep

Beneath these wind-blown truths.

❊

Unremarked, now, enduring

My invisible point of being

Waits beneath the stone…

❊

©Copyright Stephen Tanham 2017