Bliss

You know the creatures living there,
They go diving in emerald pools,
 . . . jumping rocks, scaling trees.

A rocky brow overlooks mists,
 . . . a waterfall, where swimming's coolest.

Dirt is what places a man's birth.

The mud on his boots.
You know that sand?
 . . . The mud?

The thought comes . . . a question
 . . . from the audience . . .
 . . . bits of sand become part of us.
We are this Earth . . .

Help me shoulder this thing . . 

 . . . it's heavy
That lizard I carry
 . . . wriggles free . . .
 . . . experiences bliss,

 . . . then falls back,
a bird.

Pablo Picasso, Vollard Suite