Like a pinecone
after it’s been trod on
and snowed on and
summered and rained on,
that is how I find myself.
Softer now, and with less
sense of separateness.
The earth has a fine way
of saying here, here.
And gravity, it makes things
so easy. I would not have thought
it sounded so good,
all that wearing down,
lessening to dust.
I could not have imagined
sharing my browns, much less
losing my sharpness, my articulate
serration, spilling my seeds.
Though spilling, that is what seeds
are for. And the opening beyond.
And losing the self, that is perhaps
what a self is for.
great poem. thanks
“Who would prefer the jingle of jade pendants when once he has heard stone growing in a cliff?” Lao Tzu
The power of Poetry http://www.powerofpoetry.org
and
Red Thread Gold Thread http://www.redthreadgoldthread.com
I love these lines, because they contain the seed of the poem.
“that is how I find myself.
Softer now, and with less
sense of separateness.”
Of course, everything else is necessary to see that seed, but I keep coming back to it, coming back to it, coming back to it…
You are so right … That is the seed of the poem, lovely, thank you for showing me that. r
So many seeds… Here’s what resonates with me:
Though spilling, that is what seeds
are for. And the opening beyond.
And losing the self, that is perhaps
what a self is for.
“And the opening beyond.” *sigh* Sublime. So much in that line—itself, “opening beyond.” And what a koan: Perhaps losing the self is what a self is for.
The opening lines place me there, amid the snowing, summering, raining.