The Shape

No, no, that says
Nothing of what I meant -
He gave me
Back the part withheld
And  I absorbed it
So deep in I cannot
Feel it now or know
It there, but it is,
Like yeast, slowly
Rising and my
Task involves the
Filling and the filling-out
Into the shape he showed me
That October, the full and
Risen being he wants of me.

It is there, the golden
Core, the completion of the
Self withheld -
It came in, came back
And  cannot leave, and
I must simply let it
Work  its work until it
Finds its way back
Up  towards the light
And  out of me
As T stretch with it
And  become  the
Shape he
Designated me to be.
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