Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.
Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.
And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;
And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.
And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.
Much of your pain is self-chosen.
It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.
Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquillity:
For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen,
And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears.
For now I have you bound captured in broken glass dancing for my pleasure.
a soothing companion for my bath-
a whisper and you lean
then bounce and dance again
fluid movement mesmerizes my soul
as your firey-white body dances suspended on a butane-blue pedestal
feeder of the flame
now so modest and mild dancing on a bed of wax-
To rage in the power you bear if not contained
then quick to devour-
calmly rage on and bleed hot tears.
