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Page 11
I have seen a face whose sheen I could look through to the ugliness
beneath, and a face whose sheen I had to lift to see how beautiful
it was.
I have seen an old face much lined with nothing, and a smooth face
in which all things were graven.
I know faces, because I look through the fabric my own eye weaves,
and behold the reality beneath.
The Greater Sea
My soul and I went to the great sea to bathe. And when we reached
the shore, we went about looking for a hidden and lonely place.
But as we walked, we saw a man sitting on a grey rock taking pinches
of salt from a bag and throwing them into the sea.
"This is the pessimist," said my soul, "Let us leave this place.
We cannot bathe here."
We walked on until we reached an inlet. There we saw, standing
on a white rock, a man holding a bejeweled box, from which he took
sugar and threw it into the sea.
"And this is the optimist," said my soul, "And he too must not see
our naked bodies.
Further on we walked. And on a beach we saw a man picking up dead
fish and tenderly putting them back into the water.
"And we cannot bathe before him," said my soul. "He is the humane
philanthropist."
And we passed on.
Then we came where we saw a man tracing his shadow on the sand.
Great waves came and erased it. But he went on tracing it again
and again.
"He is the mystic," said my soul, "Let us leave him."
And we walked on, till in a quiet cover we saw a man scooping up
the foam and putting it into an alabaster bowl.
"He is the idealist," said my soul, "Surely he must not see our
nudity."
And on we walked. Suddenly we heard a voice crying, "This is the
sea. This is the deep sea. This is the vast and mighty sea."
And when we reached the voice it was a man whose back was turned
to the sea, and at his ear he held a shell, listening to its murmur.
And my soul said, "Let us pass on. He is the realist, who turns
his back on the whole he cannot grasp, and busies himself with a
fragment."
So we passed on. And in a weedy place among the rocks was a man
with his head buried in the sand. And I said to my soul, "We can
bath here, for he cannot see us."
"Nay," said my soul, "For he is the most deadly of them all. He
is the puritan."
Then a great sadness came over the face of my soul, and into her
voice.
"Let us go hence," she said, "For there is no lonely, hidden place
where we can bathe. I would not have this wind lift my golden hair,
or bare my white bosom in this air, or let the light disclose my
sacred nakedness."
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