THE COMPASS ROSE
First time I heard of one
I thought of a white rose
always facing north,
a single species
blooming with secret knowledge
of a place other than its own.
Imagine the intoxication
of determining a single point
more constant than your God,
placing it on a great blank page
in front of you, and from there
slowly, quiet as a blossom,
filling in the rest of the world.