The clay lay on the table before me;
it has just arrived and freed from its sack
with preserving amniotic fluid.
When it had first arrived at the door
I sat and I watched as a flower gently unfolded
I sat and I watched as it blossomed with gold
reaching out from its centre its beauty was told.
So why are you shouting at me!
And that thing you said,
did you really mean to be,
so very, very mean and hurtful?
how beautiful the sun's reflections make
the air touched, gently rippled lakes
perfectly formed and round
on the still pond it's found
Death inevitable and unavoidable
Life fragile and transient
Reincarnate what returns
Dead meat and bones left over
under the shadow, over the brow
is a place where (i heard) ,
it always is now;
past the street lights, beyond the black night,
I prod the funeral pyre of my ego
with a sturdy stick.
One made of a question
that is most dear to my heart and soul.
I feel shut off, locked in, separated
(dark alone perilous) .
The woods call with soft green tones,
the sky yearns above,
what should be an invigorating freshness
a chill inside (shaking heart beats)
traffic on the road silent rising clanking passing