The Ways I Keep

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.