Ideas Leave Sturdy Fossils, Too

As the poem goes on and on,
Expectation is curtailed.
The Bishop’s recitation

Of that unnamed poem
He imagined memory,
Metaphor, demonstration,
Failed to elucidate time,

But as a text, a pattern
Of phrases in translation,
What he left behind

Still does an excellent job,
Even now, even after
The world he knew sun circled
Circled sun hundreds of times.