A Poem In My Pocket

I found this poem

in my box
The other day, a fragment
Really, maybe of a bigger piece, now
or in another time.

A tiny green bud unfurled,
A galaxy through lens revealed
A truth within you unsealed;
That truth a healed world.

But by itself it startled me
and I read it once again.
There’s something here
for me, I know.

So I stuck it
in my pocket,
with keys
and pills
and whatnot.

It kept on coming up, you know,
a dozen times a day.  I reach
for something else, it’s on my fingertips,
oh yes, that poem…

Each night I lay what’s
in those pockets down, and
toss
what doesn’t stay.

I fill them back each morning
as I head out on my way,
not reflecting on what is or
isn’t there.

But it keeps coming out
to talk to me at some
of the oddest times.

It pokes its head out
and asks—
where is this “tiny bud?”
what is “the lens?”

There’s a “galaxy” within,
something tiny, a hidden
world perhaps.

What is the “truth revealed?”
Does this small bud contain
a code, like neurons
do in living things?

But there’s a healing
truth, from the world within
that dwarfs the one outside

I asked what “world” this was,
He just grinned and said,
“I really cannot say, you know,

I was only into rhyming on that day.
I looked at swirled, then whirled
and there it was."