Box Maker Poem by Brian Minniear

O he is impossible that selects them;
A box maker of inscrutable ordinance
And we meanwhile dance across the head of a pin,
Seldom understanding
These spaces in between we largely consist of.

Whilst dreaming the poetry of forgetting dreams,
I grow apathetic toward a grand design
Considering the looming walls of earth and stone, I find
Myself yearning for a more compound conceptualization

Tossing and turning with the impregnable creation.