And if I go on a run, and halfway round
find the shell of a bird’s egg, cream,
with the delicate russet tracery of veins
imprinted on the inside,
can I be relaxed enough, and mindful enough,
to carry it home undamaged,
in the palm of my hand?
And if I go on a life, and halfway through
notice the beautiful tracery of veins
visible in the thin skin
stretched over my balls,
can I be mindful enough, and loving enough,
to bear them home undamaged,
in the shelter of my being?