Bullion Grey

Rookie - 83 Points (12/28/1960 / Earth)

Just Imagine.... - Poem by Bullion Grey

We are truely made of earth.......Just imagine....

Imagine I make a clay figure. I shape it, sculpt it
and take pride in my artistic creation.

Can this creation of mine insult me?
I mean it is only clay, and I am like giant to it.
I have the power to distroy it or keep in safe from distruction.

Can this figure make me cry? Can it make me mad?
I would laugh at any attempts it made to make me sad or mad.
It would actually be interesting to watch such a creation of mine to do anything.

Could this creation of mine scare me?
Could it hide from me?
Could it make me think it was NOT my creation?
No, I dont think so.

Actually there is NOthing it can do, think, or act on that would in any way do anything to me. It is simply a creation that I decided to make.

I have no fear of it, nor do I want it to fear me.
I hold no demands on it except to hold together like it is.
It can't do anything to meet my needs, nor would it expect it to.

Imagine I made a clay figure....and I loved it so much I placed it on my kitchen table, so all could see my little work of art.
Would I expect it to give anything, love, satisfaction, or worship?
Would I demand it do exactly as I tell it to?
Would I write out what it must do to please me?
(And make it hard for it to find my instructions?)
Would I worry some will make it do things against me?

What if I created many figures?
Made them all differently alike, two arms, and legs ect. then placed them on different places on my kitchen table.
Would I choose some and make them my 'chosen ones'?
What would be my basis? (Anything they are is because of me.)

What kind of imposition could I have to even consider picking
a few as chosen ones, special?
Would I choose based on where I placed them on my kitchen table?
Or where I didnt?

Would I plan for distruction for any of my creations that I love?

I wouldn't, because I am on an entirely different level.
One that even that full figure of clay creation cannot
even begin to understand,
nor would I expect it to.

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, March 28, 2009

Poem Edited: Saturday, March 28, 2009

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