Yawara

The lathe work done,
the fine dust begins to settle.

The ochre particles
of Osage orange filter
through the air to find
their correct spot
on the molecular sitting chart.

It's a matter of Portuguese wind,
really,
and Cherokee space.

Each sanded granule
of chiseled displacement
harmonically comes to rest
on the exact location
where it is destined
to end up,
all arranged
by convection currents
and 10 million
considerations.

One such mote,
whose cosmic seat
was well-reserved
from the beginning
of time,
came to rest here,
in the corner
of my eye.

And this Irish explanation
reveals the whole truth
concerning my tear,
nothing more.

A little ebony sand
and it will feel
all the better.

runningturtle87