In the beginning we reestablish order
donate, discard, shift to the purgatorial shelf for next year’s roving eye.
Spread our whole life onto the table and
This too tired and that past its use;
Classifying with a firm “It is finished.”
and our own pronounced “relics,” still belonging to the future,
Of these we say, “It is good,” and assign the saved to a new place on the shelf.
Bringing order into the chaos, form from the formless.
Finding that from the beginning, there was
open space, hovering, humming a low song around the margins, waiting for us.