Under his perfect and knowing hands
Sharpness slices into succulence
With slickness, even the most painful cut
Becomes everything or anything but.
And the smooth veneer of pretense falls away
In one graceful, unending whorl of display
Underneath it all, the core waits on
Glowing like the blush of first light at dawn
What’s done is done but cycle’s not complete
Freefalling the good seed lands at his feet
Deep it burrows into warm earth,
As the fruit goes through its own rebirth.
People have wondered whether it’s about good sex or reckless lovemaking. Or some ask me about karma and reincarnation. Wow. Well, actually, I just wrote this after having watched someone peel an apple so perfectly. Somehow, it developed into my analogy about life or its rebirth or God. But I really, really find it interesting how we think. The human mind never fails to keep me in awe. And with that I cannot begin to imagine how the divine works.