Delight in its Place

No light? Then eat it.
Go down in darkness on it,
Feed and savor, host it
On a sacramental tongue.
Of essence, hunger's mute
Insistence makes a meal.

So hunger more. Be God's mole, and
Dive away from the day's rude light,
Nose right in and burrow to
The roiling planetary core,
The boiling-house of appetite.
Delved deep enough, cold earth
Is fire. As below, so above:

In hidden quintessential love
Delight conceives in surging things:

In its cave of chest
The heart in darkness
Leaps against the walls.

In the cave of skull
The brain in darkness
Thrums with hot surmise.

In its cave of self
The soul in darkness
Blooms, exfoliates
Trajectories of longing
Longer that the eye can see,
Auroras all invisible,
A darkling webwork strung
From everywhere to everywhere
And yearns to breed with stars.

Joe Wrobel