Something Worth Trying

When we saw the city,
We believed again in time.
Line of the tall spires and the bend
Of a bright sky.

We believed again in space.
Light of the large looms
and the roof of the great eye.
We believed again in perfectibility
(if not perfection), in the fresh
(if not the new).

We named it progress. The past
was not warm, so we named it dead.
We named everything we could not touch
Passed. We believed
Again in what was large.
Might of the long road and
The risk of the big wish.
When we made the step back.

Look. There. Clear measure
Of the flock on the far tip,
Of all the missed trips.
When we saw the city—