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Reforming Clay

I felt like a clay pot

once from the earth

Born with spirit, soul cropped

The owners; my guardians, held me

They allowed me to be used

for my true purposes,

not as a pot but a holder of life;



Later, others wanted me to be a pot for use

To look and act like other pots 

Or my uniqueness challenged their sameness 

So I became like them, soul lost.

For years shattering the dried clay

Holding others definitions as truth

Until I tried to break myself.


Instead I dissolved back into clay,

ready to be reformed into what remained 

This being a bringer of Life, a watcher

I will be Earth and return to Earth

I will hold the air within my spaces

I will let emotions spill out of my cup

As I bring forth the power of the fire that made me

Those who try to mould me are unknowing 

They will forget that without faith

There will never be connection. 



◄ The Chariot

Swamp Child ►


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Ferris Ty Taylor

Sat 3rd Apr 2021 09:35

The final line of the first stanza hit hard. Love this

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