Adam, they say, was made of spit and dust
but, suppose it was sand
processed into glass upon each arrival -
the body a lens, a window, a peephole
through which God might perceive
the world He has created
from every possible angle
until the doomed glass shatters,
rejoins an endless stream
of innumerable, new configurations.
Suffering comes (the Enlightened Ones say)
when we see ourselves
as the unique, fragile glass
rather than the emptiness
upon which it is poised
on the one hand
and existence on the other.
O child of God, earnestly search for your Father
through the eye which cannot see itself.