Vocation

When I discovered the emerald
hidden in my ribs,

I gave up duty and skill,

wealth, adventure, and fame

just to follow this menial

vocation: I became

a Jewel Polisher!

I keep moving

the ragged cloth of this breath,

moistened with the tincture

of pure awareness,

over the chalice in my heart

until golden emptiness itself

becomes wine, each drop

a gem of hopeless wonder

deeper inside than my name,

reflecting a world beyond

confusion, without edges,

where meadow and forest,

the wreathe of clouds,

the incandescent blackness

of night in the panther-eye

of the unhoused stranger,

even the face of the beloved

who lies beside me, are all

one nimbus gleaming out

of my body. Now

consider that you also
might mother creation
through this simple work,

the rhythm of stillness.

Photo by Laurent Berthier