The Old Lamp
The lamp’s round base gives comfort to my soul
I see the potter and her potter’s wheel
Bowls and jugs emerge as new born wholes
Made from earth and clay like human beings
I meditated on the centre of my watch
I watched the ummoved centre as time passed
Then the door into my dreams unlatched
By my other self I was then clasped
I spent three years in mending this great lamp
When others told me, why not throw it out?
This base and shade by my tears were well damped
As needed to eliminate my doubts
Do what your heart tells you and refine
These feelings in the mirrors of your mind
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