For what purpose this life,
the body a mysterious object;
this particular consciousness,
a mind both whole and opaque;
this particular moment
so strange and yet so ordinary?
Where is its radiance?
Here is a raw geode, unbroken;
I can hold it in my hand and it
appears as simply a stone might—
rough and cool, a weight in my palm.
But from within I can feel the heat
radiating outward—as I
brush the dust from the crevices
I know inside there lies dormant a
glittering core, a heart of vibrant color.
Understanding this, I close my eyes:
you are whole, but transparent to me.
Tell me—do I dare split it open?
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2 comments:
Is this one of yours, Miriam? It's beautiful. Thank you for sharing it.
Yup, it's mine. And thanks for sharing yours--your choices all this week have been amazing.
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