by J. Gregory Wharton

Immense solidity, these walls,
Which stand now material,
So smooth and straight,
Just as I imagined.

The space within
Merely potential,
Until I came here
To wrap it in veils of concrete.

Now a massive straight-edge
Drawn from a thread
Originating within me,
Like a wire pulled from a die.

Yet, this is not all there will be.

A bold precursor,
This anchor buried
In the earth, forgotten,
But always trusted.

From this sound platform,
So cool to the touch,
Will rise real the dream.
I see it in my mind,

And soon it shall Be.