The molding of clay
Is a transformative thing.
Just as spirit bends when broken,
by mental anguish.
The molding of clay
Is a static thing.
It changes when pressure is applied,
by force and strength.
The spirit can be flattened,
Like clay,
And it can be made sharp
by pain and fear.
Beautiful spirits exist,
shining and reflective,
in the deep waters
by our soul.
Not all spirits are heavenly,
Some are brown and muddy,
like clay,
by way of hurt.
Some spirits need to be shaped
with a pottery wheel.
Made serene and lovely,
by removing imperfections
Firing the clay in a kiln,
Just as a spirit,
Keeps both in shape,
by tension and heat.
Not all spirits can stay,
Not in one form,
But they can rest,
By way of acceptance.
