The Goddess Commands Poem by Patrick Czyz

We shall make them all clay.
Not like the spread fins of fish
Nor the pierced paws of wolves,
But soft, tender tips to feel and touch
Bid the hand to another's clasp.
The human frame will lack cover
That grace the furred and scaled creatures
Prowling plains of snow rock and desert.
For the fragile command care.
Soft spoken their voice will sound
Faint to compare with the songs of whales.
Weak and mortal they walk about the earth.
So delight them with blood flowing underneath
The brief moments of blushing and joy.
Lest they lose their place, remind them shocks
Of the ground, tremble of the sky and death to life.
When they cross worlds, seal their blink
That was every sleep dream and loving stare.
Then decay their colorless cages that once held their hearts.