One Life Is Spent, the Other
Spends Us
One life is spent, the other
spends us.
Rarely, they touch -
life a cat for the first time meeting itself in a mirror.
life a cat for the first time meeting itself in a mirror.
In the world, mirrors are
few.
The slightest wind dissolves them.
The slightest wind dissolves them.
In a life, the moments of
recognition are few.
Consciousness does not hate
or love, it neither grieves nor longs.
Walking and breathing are not its nature.
It is.
Walking and breathing are not its nature.
It is.
Yet something passes and
ends, grows wet in rain and then dries.
and the small bowl of kibble
empties into a delicate, spotted paw,
a tail slightly kinked, a preference for one windowsill
over another.
a tail slightly kinked, a preference for one windowsill
over another.
~ Jane Hirshfield
~
(Given Sugar, Given
Salt)
Web archive of Panhala postings: www.panhala.net/Archive/Index.html
To subscribe to Panhala, send a blank email
to Panhala-subscribe@yahoogroups.com
To unsubscribe from Panhala, send a blank email to Panhala-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com