Picking up each egg gingerly,
You hold them briefly, inches from your face.
Eyes believe they can see through the pores
Of the shell, but only imagine the motions.
You have no view of the albumen, the yolk;
You cannot see that the shell is broken.
Just as gingerly, you place each egg in,
Lovingly, gently, carefully, even though
The basket is broken and each placed egg
Just rolls around as you walk, until it
Finds the opening and falls out; No matter,
As they already were cracked in your grip.
So studiously you wander, gathering eggs,
Collecting them in vain: your quest self-perpetuated.
©2014 choiSOSS
choiSOSS 