I bumped my shin on a table
Up my leg travels shooting pain
It is solid, massively stable
And I am toppling, a figure vain.
Imprisoned soul, brought down by so inane
A cage as this fragile body, subject
To decay and pain. But I am soul and will remain
Long after this cage is less than dust. Now reflect
On the nature of this massive object
Whose very atoms are but empty space,
Indeterminate strings, wriggling, abject,
Transcient, entrancing, beautiful lace.
While I am simple, eternal soul
Dazzled by details, yet embracing the whole.
-Mulk, 157 B.E.
© Larry Kenneth Gates 1999
(Also published in World Order Magazine)