Saturday, 29 May 2010

Clay

Silt, cold in my hand
Once stood, hard
On other land
Buried long waiting
For force and heat
The cycle to complete

Torn at our request
By imposition
By our will
By furnace,
Petrified , transformed
A fragment of our being imortalised

No matter what their worth
Both will return unto the earth.

Copyright. John Daniels

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