I wrote this one the night before the fire. Weird!

Having someone who knows the path
And who helped with thick gloved hands
To lay the ties
Looking with assurance at this source
Of time and place
As if they're proof it really is.
Knowing.
From fallen arc of hair
From sound of rain on coat
From trembling lip in wind
Taking gold shavings that lie around ground
And stuffing them in my briefcases, pockets, mouth.
We can look ahead, squinting
From glint on melting tar
And crouch to hear the hollowed Earth resound.

So when I step away again
The unmapped space
Between Mercury and the Sun
Will whisper a brief nod
And the road unkinks
And falls straight
Like silk on skin.
Our each four feet place great steps
Wide with grin
And the source will furrow and quote the day we spotted the trick in the box
The spot we drew the lines in
The reason the next zoom-out is coming around
Into view.

Or not having any of it.
Knowing it's slipped up and away
Many times.
Hands in pockets, dust long tarnished
Trickle a path this way and fro
Slip in wind and bitter splinter spray
Shudder to know you had it
But you looked it straight in the eye
And said "goodbye".