Plain in the city

A plain Quaker folk singer with a Juris Doctorate in his back pocket, salt in his blood, and a set of currach oars in the closet, Ulleann Pipes under his arm, guitar on his back, Anglo Irish baggage, wandering through New York City ... in constant amaze. Statement of Faithfulness. As a member of the Quaker Bloggers Ad Hoc Committee I affirm that I will be faithful to the Book of Discipline of my Meeting 15th Street Monthly Meeting of the Religious Society of Friends.

Friday, June 10, 2005

dreams of a grain of sand

A grain of sand sat ... one of many, on a beach until a strong storm-driven wind picked it up and carried it along.

"Oh... this is what I was made for... to fly...! " thought the grain of sand...

Then the wind dropped the grain of sand into the sea. At first the grain of sand was scared, all was green and shimmering, then darker and darker as the grain of sand drifted down...

" I will fall forever... " thought the grain of sand...

Then the grain of sand found the bottom of the ocean...

" At least I can fall no further" thought the grain of sand...

But being heavier than the ooze at the bottom of the sea, the grain of sand began to sift down... into darker darkness and farther from hope... there the sand dreamed of a rupture in the earth, to be heated into glass, to be tossed up onto the beach again, to be found and made into a glass ornament, a heart, knowing that some day the ornament would fall and be broken ... abandoned to start again.

1 Comments:

At 12:55 PM, Blogger Larry said...

Blake saw the whole world in a grain of sand. BTW I think he may have had some Irish blood.

 

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