Quatrain 60
Quatrain 60 of 75
“And strange to tell, among that Earthen Lot
Some could articulate, while others not:
And suddenly one more impatient cried—
"Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?"”
Reflection · Winter
Among that Earthen Lot — the clay population in winter rows, cold, shaped into what they have been made to be. And strange to tell: some can still articulate. In the winter silence, the question is still being asked. Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot? In winter this question has its deepest resonance. The pot is aware of its potness — aware that it was made, that it has been used, that it is returning to clay. And it still asks.
Khayyam has spent his whole life in the shop, and the question has not been answered. But the asking of it — the strange, precious, impossible asking of it — this is what distinguishes the pots that articulate from the ones that cannot.