Vessels
- some are made of crystal, some are made of clay...and some are made of
flesh and bone...mind meets heart, body meets soul...
Memories stored...sorted and sifted...time unfolds...
I take a length of elegant brocade...I pull the cross-threads away...one by one...I pull...I lay them over my knees...I think of my life...I am tearing away the bitter...in search of sweet...
I stop my hands from pulling...I look at the length of brocade...threads hang, the fabric as whole has been ruined...I have the sweet and I have the bitter...but, separated...there is no whole...
e.e. cummings writes -
i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday, this is the birth
day of life and love and wings; and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth
...
now the ears of my ears are awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened
