Particle Theory

In the oyster, the small pain Of sand produces the pearl, Glowing with secret glazes wrapped atwirl Around the aching grain. In the autumn, the death Of a lone leaf leaves beauty ere it falls, Glowing in crimson-gold until the breath Of frost and sweet oblivion calls. And on my marble catafalque I lie; You wait in your ivory tower. A scrap of verse expands to fill the sky, A moment's joy is spun into an hour, And a smile becomes the miracle of the ages As we sing to one another from our cages. -- Jean MacKay Jackson

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