The burden of life

 The embryo here in my hand
looking up at me the foreign statue
as we climb the escalator
the walls are long wide clocks

canoes and bicycles
downward downward just concrete
the light comes in enough to illuminate our faces
from the broad windows 

the life in me should echo down through generations
should have a voice to speak into the clean well
dug and laid by the hands of our own arms
In this noctambulist generation 

Those same hands join to pray
That this well will sustain great ambitions
beyond the fooled audiences of today
Kind embryo may burden strengthen you