If you are round, stay round.
You have let tears soften
your jagged fear,
stars polish away pride
and the shelter of meekness.
You have found your place,
and if you change shape,
you will lose it.
What has been born forms many angles,
the sinew of incarnation.
Wolves have sharp teeth,
and some take up knives against them.
Some will throw anchors to stay as they are,
some will lay tracks to get away,
some will break into pieces.
Allow them all to become you
to pass through you
and return to what is unmade.
If you must, gently push them through
and they will become round,
round as the earth whence they came.
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