To build the box, you lay out all four sides,
Set right the corner angles with your square,
Adorn your plane with shavings as it slides,
Sand smooth the naked wood with utmost care;
Countersink every nail, polish each hinge,
And oil the hasp that locks the lid in place;
Seal every joint with wax, let light impinge
No more in this, your bounded, seamless space;
And underneath that perfect, varnished lid,
Within that cube of darkness you have wrought,
Perhaps not understanding what you did,
You built a prison to constrain your thought--
While I shatter the locks and set mine free,
So it can find what shape it's meant to be.
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