The Mountain Of Clay (Poem)
Out in the wilderness,
Where winds burst away.
We are all creators today,
On a mountain of clay.
The mountain can be atrocious,
With its height and surface.
But we keep pressing on,
Until the day we’re gone.
Our nests high up in the trees above,
The winds toss and turn its branches and trunk.
Our nests shake upon the storm at night,
But we still remain,
Because we’re eagles who soar,
And don’t take flight.
The clay is moldable to our disguise.
We shape it the way we want,
Upon the mountain of clay.
We stand tall affirm out loud,
Even if we waver we still consider,
We’ve survived it all,
Despite the turns and falls,
All according to the inexplicable laws.
We call this time space a mountain of clay.
We are the change to transform today.
Although the turns and detours,
Won’t lead us astray.
Many sights and experiences to chase away.
This is our life, stand and relax.
Don’t hold back in the pottery and clay.
Look above, all the answers lies,
In the one who created the skies.