nought

do not

place me

on pedestal

so high

i fall

and

break

shattering

against your

delicate lenses

i am

whimsical image

on cotton T shirt

or porcelain mug

two dimensional print

on cheap paper

not worthy

of lofty regard

but

i am

also

a journey

painfully wrought

work of art

crafted from tears

birthing ethereality

ancient murmurs

sublime

paroxisms

contortions

and

i am

struggling

to survive

walking tightrope

teetering between

independence

dependence

the monk with a bowl

living off morsels

from charity

the angel with broken soul

soaring and dipping

light and heavy

the marketplace gypsy

selling treasure

for pennies misconceived

for gold repudiated

to buy

a loaf of bread

a breath of air

a drop of Self

this is poetry

this is not poetry

raw utterance

or

refined craft?

it matters not

for all

yes, all

myriad incarnations

are merely facets

fragments

slivers

shards

of Grace

and Grit

an interplay

of

everything

and

nought

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