A Bowl

Imagine the time the particle you are 
returns where it came from!

The family darling comes home. Wine, 
without being contained in cups, 
is handed around.

A red glint appears in a granite outcrop, 
and suddenly the whole cliff turns to ruby.

At dawn I walked along with a monk
on his way to the monastery.
                                           "We do the same work,"
I told him. "We suffer the same."

He gave me a bowl. 
And I saw:
    the soul has this shape.
                                       Shams,
you that teach us and actual sunlight,
                                                       help me now,

being in the middle of being partly in my self, 
and partly outside.