I. Discovery   My spirit, buried these four dozen years, Split and rooted in the sudden spring. The solace of flesh was not enough. Sing, Voice new harmonied by joy; Tell the progress of the sleeping boy Awakened in mid-month. Free are tears, Groundwater of an arid plain; Loosed the spring of love, to soak and stain The desert ground that had not cried for rain. Freed the root that splits the bursting heart, Burrows spine and anchors love. Love, start, With promised future, treasured now; and part My chest, ripe fruit and carnal honeycomb, To raise the tree of need in its fierce home.