poem 014

in building a home we set about it, mastering ourselves through our active creating, that wide universe built inside by that same self . . . mostly unformed, rarely brought to speech, even less written or passed along . . . little fundamental connections to the grounding incidentals, bits built into the core itself immersed . . . becoming who we are: that endless universe left mostly below the level of sense we share, instead felt like a chord holding true beneath it all . . . by artful profiles, we turn it out for others to see, still mysterious because still connected below the point above which is open to simple reason