Today I clothe myself in a Thicket of green leaves,
Embalmed with the fragrance of white petals.
With only the memory of ruffled sheets of linen
and of the silent robes smeared with salt and water,

I drink the ink of the blue sky and the colorless air.
Soon, I will join my Father and converse
with my many children in spirit.

Soon I would be carved into wood to sit in silence with furniture.
To be dressed up like a babe and keep only one expression
on my face: of pain, of hope, of kindness.
There is nothing similar between an image and the actual.
We are almost separated by a hairbreadth of a mile.
When can they see that what is visible is seldom what it shows?
I was a carpenter once and I knew what can be contained and what cannot.

A man I once knew kept with him a jar of seawater
He reasons that when he wakes up
He is reminded by the vastness of the sea.
And he embraces its fragrance: Salt and water.
Can not a jar claim a portion of the sea as his?
Or to put it in perspective is it not the sea that embraces us?
Our mouths and minds are still, left open and dull in silence
Waiting perhaps, in solitary meditations or when in drunkenness we will talk.

I and my other self are one.
But soon, after I have gone another will take my place,
he will embrace us like the sea
Even in places where no sea is in sight.
One thing is certain: salt.
The tasteless air will ink new births of sea.
Today we clothe ourselves in the nakedness of our adopted innocence.
We will walk with the many children and again converse in the garden.

- 10OCT15