18 April 2009

p.a.d. - day fifteen

The Tin Man

One must have a mind of Myth
To regard the pain and the suffering
Of impending death grafted with grief;

And have been crushed a long time
To behold the fractured bones skewered with steel,
The amputated leg still throbbing on the fragmented altar

Of pain killers; and not to think
Of any catastrophe in the bones of the x-ray,
In the dream of a newborn baby,

Which is the dream of the orchid
Full of the same tears
That are falling in the same blue sky

For the watcher, who watches through the mirror,
And, broken himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the everything that is.

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