To find (or lose) yourself
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH2qgVdBRTz-hmAjXrEgOhdoLXgGcn-5Ka76dZwpHg6lLlhU1IpOLav5189b2odUCPLAN3R2VfGrHn6FFdyr5aDLEDmM-TMWUtvEj9MlDtImrK6-W-nEDXNhMOK5x7lun4KrgIa0yO68A/s320/precision-needle-thread.jpg)
you go where you go
when you thread a needle;
to the timeless, seamless place
where there exists only
the fingers on your one hand
holding the thread,
wetted in your mouth,
twisted to a point;
the fingers on your other hand
holding a needle
eye to eye,
breathless.
Only when the thread
passes through the needle’s eye
do you return
to your turbulent, breathing life.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3VAzm_mG04HGgsoZY3YeFzHv4zg1sXQSHOeUy6HTX7qI3Bxxh3dzYVTXaPVVMTfjwcsEi-aaUmXT7fGhpppiUPVZZTU65trwoUIGImYyYxOwkmKfYiXNci1RU42t8d-bddy8KUlhQlnw/s200/bogpoetry.jpg)
Photography credit: "Thread the Needle, by Bill Frymire, 2007 (originally color).
Beautiful!
ReplyDeleteTrue--and yet as my eyes have changed I have to say there's less of a contemplative pause outside time and more of a "where IS that darn eye of the needle?" moment for me. Still a beautiful description of mindfulness.
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