Broken Vessel

(by Alysyn Ayrica)
Again, though I wrote this a month ago, I keep coming to this place. It seems to know me by name, and often asks me to stay...

Within a chain of events sometimes comes the realization of one's worth and relevance. These things are never hidden, except in the context of personal perspective. Desire and need often supplant truth in claiming the vision and distorting one's self-assessment.

An earthen vessel, ornate and craftily created, is often looked upon as a thing of beauty. Set upon a pedestal it creates an atmosphere of delicacy and sophistication. Yet, in truth, it is merely a container. It's purpose at creation was to accomodate something of true worth...even something as seemingly simple as life-sustaining water.

What Is to be done with the vessel when it is shattered? Does it not depend on the artisan? Is the original purpose of the vessel relevant?

Many times the potsherd speaks more voluminously than the vessel unscathed. In it's pristine state it draws glances, is commented on and appreciated briefly, and eventually blends into the background.

Yet, it's pieces provoke curiosity, questions...and often speculative debate.

This is the purpose the Artisan of the heart has set for this soul. Emotion has been a taint for too long on reason, and desire...need...has hindered understanding.

Too many day wasted wanting for that which has not been determined. Too much felt in vain.

Here John Keats has relay'd so eloquently:

"How is it, Shadows, that I knew ye not?
How came ye muffled in so hush a Masque?
Was it a silent deep-disguised plot
To steal away, and leave without a task
My idle days? Ripe was the drowsy hour;
The blissful cloud of summer-indolence
Benumb'd my eyes; my pulse grew less and less;
Pain had no sting, and pleasure's wreath no flower.
O, why did ye not melt, and leave my sense
Unhaunted quite of all but---nothingness?"



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