You do not understand
the ways I keep:
the sleight of my hand—
how I wind, how I creep.
Do you think I need you
to believe in me?
It’s I who must seed you
first. From my seed, your tree.
How can you understand
me, how can you find
me, unless my hand
reaches into your mind
and lights a lantern there
and does some deep mining?—
Until then, despair!
and total lack of meaning.
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