We Can Wait for You

If we don’t burn.
If we’re not lost.
If we’re not dirt
Or worms or mold.

We’re words. We’re spores
Packed tight in lines.
We’re built to store
And set to go.

We know the deal.
We’ve seen the marks
Cut in clay bricks.
What we hold lasts,

Past the scribes’ lives,
Past the gods’ faiths,
Past all known tongues
That spoke us, once.