Clay

I am the texture worn

Through trials and dreams

Thoughts and schemes

Just adding water

To blend myself into something

Whatever strikes the mood

I become curved and rounded

By the words I create and live

Adding and spackling the spaces

Where I feel the need to cover

The shadows in light.
We are a piece of a star that fell in the future 

or a speck of bone

From yesterday’s rib,

Fluid and not always observed

In the entirety of what we have yet to become,

Spinning round on this world

Where we are created from the same pieces

Of earth and stone ground down

Then adding more water

In the loving hands of the master

Become more and more of ourselves

Made beautiful and grand

Elegant pieces carved,

Yet always worth more when left

Unfired to be something new tomorrow,

A never ending stream of everything,

A piece of clay molded into our souls desire,

A piece of art worthy of museums,

Yet happier below blue skies

And rain that falls

Puddling us into

Yet a new self.

  

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16 thoughts on “Clay

  1. They must be spectacular. Nothing gives a home greater meaning than being built with things made by the owners hands and love. Thank you and I’m so glad you enjoyed it๐Ÿ˜Š our yard here has a lot of clay in it. Makes for fun paw prints everywhere come spring thaw๐Ÿ˜Š๐Ÿพ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿพ

    Like

  2. I love this – your words, metaphors and photos. I love clay. I made the tiles in my house, and it was like playing in the mud.

    Liked by 1 person

Your words are stars and I humbly thank you for shining your light for me....

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