It’s like peeling an onion.
When you’ve been through the layers,
slowly laid them back,
savored the feel of silky skin
you’ve wet with your warm tears;
they fall away like veils and
you may reach a certain space.
Tiny niche in a hollow,
in a place you’ve never noticed before,
flicker of harmony in a glimmer of light
so tender it will break your heart,
so clear that you may miss it
so simple that you’ll never believe
you solved the puzzle
of your Self
—from Rattle #21, Summer 2004