Hands of Clay
Labyrinthine hollows swirling freely through unformed clay
Slithering, slipping , moving down
And tossed away.
Tunneling blindly through the darkness
Searching for that perfect state
Hands against the warm fluid
Disappearing, releasing fate.
Water, an intermediary between this organic bond
This terra incognita slowly folding into a tight mound
I am the alchemist of my own single vision of today
Like an injured pigeon, hands cup clay.
Night comes, the wheel is placed away
Covered neatly to sleep
As your own body`s quiet firmness
Moves against my own vulnerable, moldable form
The complex folds of your languid eyelids relax and drift down
Tears overthrown, shaken away by loving breath,
I am quickly reminded that we are but two wholes becoming one
Not like the clay nestled in a potter`s hands
But like the ocean, two rivers
flowing away from the land.