- Vol. 07
- Chapter 04
At my back, a tree, deadened by winter.
Not dead but merely asleep.
Birds, lining the branches,
living notes of a new song.
the Mother of Pearl pavement, I stand.
At my radius, the walls of the oyster.
Layer after layer of nacre form,
I rise, an irritant bathed in mystery,
the miracle of life in the darkness.
Facing my future
Standing on the mica-laced patchwork
Knowing I am a pearl of great price.