Sometimes, it’s hard to exactly define
the difference in density of blood
and water; often, it is a blurred line
that wends its way through a desert of crud,
and like the Sufi story of the stream
that, at the edge of the Sahara, must
give up its identity to the dream
of air vapor to cross the endless dust,
the slow process of evaporation
can change your perspective in such strange ways:
each old point of view is renewed in flight,
and you find each troubled situation
only serves to reconnect bonds that stay,
and feeds old dreams with a familiar light.
12 JAN 2003
