For All That

A man assembles in his mind that which he knows, then listens to the colors of oncoming thoughts, tempered in the fire of passion and of love. It is the knowing that he fears, the messages that trail across the years, creating "I" within his mind and tremulous that he might cast aside a piece of soul that nestled in him, his alone, or worse the germ of everyman. He pauses by the stream to dip his fingers, wonder at the incompleteness he has wrought, and suddenly impatient with the rippling image looking back, he clings to the identity that is his permanent sarcophagus, a sacrosanct mortality no one may ever share. ~ *(with gratitude to the spirit of Robert Burns )