I

Burn me up

crack me open, for too long

I've been an unbroken yolk

in a shell, within a nest,

in a house.

What do you want from me?

How can I love?

I was made from mud.

Sometimes my glowing sparks cut like glass

sometimes I am the glass.

Mother. I don't feel fullness. Right now I only feel my own lack of everything. What is this pretty stick, so crushable? Growing from the curve of a green tree. It's bruised, and thinks it knows what pain is. But it doesn't grasp that the cure for pain is pain. I do not grasp that the cure for pain is pain.

It's green and thinks it knows what new life is. But it hasn't died yet, so how can it know?

My camel has gotten thoroughly stuck inside the needle's eye. I can't seem to die. I'll try. Who is this "I"?