A Bowl…

 

Imagine the time the particle you are
returns where it came from!

The family darling comes home. Wine,
without being contained in cups,
is handed around.

A red glint appears in ta granite outcrop,
and suddenly the whole cliff turns to ruby.

At dawn I walked along with a monk
on his way to the monastery.

“We do the same work,”
I told him.  “We suffer the same.”

He gave me a bowl.
And I saw:

the soul has this shape.

Shams, you that teach us and actual sunlight,
help me now,

being in the middle of being partly in my self,
and partly outside.

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