From Transcendental EtudeOnly the musing of a mind,
One with her body,
experienced fingers quietly pushing
Dark against, silk against roughness,
Pulling the tenets of a life together
With no mere will to mastery,
Only the care for the many lived, unending,
Forms in which she finds herself,
Becoming now the shard of broken glass
Slicing light in the corner, dangerous
To flesh, now the plentiful, soft leaf,
That wrapped around the throbbing finger, soothes
the wound,
And now the stone foundation, rock shelf further
Forming underneath everything that grows.
therockshelf.com 