CIRCLE

At birth we are jarred
From the womb water
Bursts, we gasp for air
Broken jar, vessel of
Parental love, into mortality
Of dangling fragments
Mobiles, image panoplies
Colorful enamels, symbolic
Memory guides, glib smiles
Cooing noises, words, alphabet
Puzzles to form sentences
Syntax and semantics early
Emotional turmoil of chemical
Changes and motor skills, later
Shards of divergent integrals
Evidence of our ignorance
Haunting shapes pass in dreams
Unheard melodies wake us
Soon we learn life is a labor
Of love, restoring our pieces
Finding their fit, bringing back
Recovering some lost order
Seeing more than what appears
Glimpsing beyond, to a simple
Symmetry, our life is a broken urn
That we slowly repair, fitting
Carefully, until we discover
Its original antique eloquence 
Beauty in truth then it is finished
And we fill it with our ashes
Before we move on.  

By Jan G. Otterstrom F.
    Palmares, Costa Rica