Friday, April 04, 2008

pearl

No one asks the oyster if it wants to make a pearl.

The sand comes in

uninvited.


The oyster does the only thing it can to protect its quivering, salty, delicate flesh.

It excretes layers of iridescence, moist rainbows,

an accretion of moonlight.


I think all beauty is something like this –


un-chosen, necessary

holding something sharp in its heart.

1 comment:

O'rya said...

Lovely em. You need to submit this somewhere.