Advent

This must be what we wished for. Untimed, starting
In great fields rippling with breezes of seductive unknown,

A great smoking industry of actors, at first inchoate,
Diverse in interests with skills each only initially undefined.

Planning then building then pushing to position,
Muscling a manifold of edges through which no thing

Could pass, in which every thing was nestled.
Snug in surety. Assignments ongoingly assigned.

First rough hewn, now polished so smooth workers are
Mesmerised within by their own acts as they are acted.

World makers, entranced in a house of mirrors.
Imaginatively outside, always already within.

Package-makers, enamored of making packages.
We creators, worlding the world without destination.

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