A Process of Shape

We will build and build
All the way to the moon and
Stars that are in our
Eyes already, our hands
Just have to follow
Our imagination's wars
Against matter and our 
Arm, limitation and the
Known - we have to
Widen into our true ring
Size before we come of
Age and our one God
Will rise in praise of
Us - one people and one
World, one language and 
One colour that is
Hope and the end of things -
A perfect width and
Subtlety of good worn
As colour in the iris
At our heart's engine.
We will be 
Ghosts in our own machine,
Our reach will not
Exceed our grasp then,
But when we are 
All knowledge and
Ethnicity all
Calibre and humane 
Art, our widest being
All truth and wisdom, 
It will end 
Where it began
And turn in 
To retrace our own 
Steps from core to edge of
Universe: that finite expansion
Of travelling in order to
Do wrong and learn
And in that carrying 
Contract back, compress
To God's kernel as
Process - that packed
When life was first
Burst and born - it is
Our final form.
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