Maybe one day you will show yourself
Among bookshelves, thirst for knowledge
In libraries classic, joys of old, in Oxford
Between stones of thought climbing windows
From roofs in gowns in Magdalene frowns
Formal halls by high tables and your weight in gold
Or escape to rivers by canal boats
Unlocked by locks, Surprised by Joy
As you get lost wandering by canal path
On skateboard
The thrush and flush of first real love
By Christ Church meadows, ducks and water
Always deeper and deeper in baptismal love
Maybe you will cry as you hear
On morning of May the pain of beauty
Revealed in voices, and never explain
What you felt that morning on North Parade.
Meet Him by Gatehouse, and North Gate
Then show up at KEEN and First Aid
And find friends willing to share tute sheets
And debate late at night thoughts
About the existence of God
As cold chills of Moon-wind reveal
The ecstatic fear of nothing-something
Caressing your real imagined world of Second Quad.
Maybe you will find a ghost of me walk by a book shelf.
Maybe in you I will find my younger self.
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