I sit with beads in red and blue,
And wonder what their colors do;
Do they hold thought, or only light,
Or change their meaning with our sight?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A crimson bead may speak of fire,
Of autumn leaves, or warm desire;
Yet placed beside a festive green,
It tastes of joy and things unseen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A yellow bead can summon spring,
The mango\u2019s flesh, the marigold\u2019s ring;
Or mustard fields beneath the sun,
And meals where many laugh as one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The orange one may carry fall,
A pumpkin feast, a temple wall;
Or evening skies where daylight dies,
Yet leaves its warmth across the skies.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A green bead may be leaf or lime,
A summer field, a younger time;
It might be chutney, sharp and bright,
Or forests washed in monsoon light.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And blue\u2014what does the blue bead know?
Of winter dusk? Of rivers\u2019 flow?
Of Krishna\u2019s form? Of distant sea?
Or simply blue\u2014because I see?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We rush to say that black is night,
And white must surely stand for light;
But coal can warm, and milk can hide,
And truth refuses sides supplied.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A black bead may be depth and grace,
The fertile earth, the endless space;
A white one may be ash or snow,
Or empty rooms where nothing grows.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So color bends beneath the mind,
And takes the shape that thought can find;
The bead is silent in my hand\u2014
It does not tell me where to stand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then comes the bead so small and fine,
A grain almost too slight to shine;
Yet string enough of these in line,
And suddenly a form is mine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And then the large bead, bold and round,
With weight enough to make a sound;
Yet size alone does not decree
Which one holds greater mystery.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The little bead may bind the whole,
The larger one may mark the goal;
One fills the space, one sets the pace\u2014
Both find their meaning in their place.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Like seasons strung from cold to heat,
Like sour and salt and spice and sweet;
Like feast-day noise and winter rest,
Each bead becomes what joins it best.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Perhaps that is what making shows:
No color stands alone and knows;
No size decides what one must be\u2014
The thread creates the unity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And as I string them, one by one,
I think of all we call and shun;
How life, like beads, may disagree\u2014
Yet still make something whole in me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
–Mani<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I sit with beads in red and blue,And wonder what their colors do;Do they hold thought, or only light,Or change their meaning with our sight? A crimson bead may speak of fire,Of autumn leaves, or warm desire;Yet placed beside a … Continue reading