Fellini and Rumi

                                                      The hurt you embrace becomes joy.


                                                  Call it to your arms where it can change.


                                                 A silkworm eating leaves makes a cocoon.


                                           Each of us weaves a chamber of leaves and sticks.


                               Silkworms begin to truly exist as they disappear inside that room.


                                              Without legs, we fly. When I stop speaking,


                                           this poem will close, and open its silent wings...