* The poem is called "The Origins and History of Consciousness" by Adrienne Rich. Part of it goes like this:

"each of us, having loved the flesh in its clenched or loosened beauty
better than trees or music (yet loving those too
as if they were flesh--and they are--but the flesh
of beings yet unfathomed in our roughly literal life.)"

You think it's a dot, hurrying by this little something in your thoughts, but it's a point on a shere of something you know. You can go through the dot into this large round space of something you know, something that is not what you are expected to know.

If you stay in it and get strong at knowing what you know and let that knowing make something--a painting, a sound, a way you gesture, a way you touch, you are part of the long healing of the origins and history of consciousness.