When you were small
you were offered
this private joy:
to know, and
be known
by words.

feeling then
as you do now
the curved
perfection
of each
exquisite
darkness;

thirsting then
as you do now
for the presence
of each
intoxicating
appearance;

homesick now
as never then,
for a warmth
that was only
ever
borrowed;

remember, listener:
your lovers
arrived
through
their
own
door
fitted
in the rags
of a tailored
fire.

time now
to forget loneliness
to open your ears
to the knocking
of someone
in need.

continue to build
your lodgings along
the pilgrim’s road;
host the glittering darkness
until your listening
is taken from you.

then, o small one,
will darkness
desire you;
silence
befriend you;
strangeness
reclaim you.

for you are
what you serve
and your guest
is infinity
itself.