Creation


There it stands.

Rough, idle material, needing to be refined.

Human media is the hardest to work.

Indeed, it is a pitiless bitch to use.

Shape it too hard, it breaks.

Too softly, it snaps back into place.

Ah, but all it takes is time.

Sit at the stand and run the fingers

Over it's strangely contoured surface.

Feel it's texture. Springy one this.

Lively too. Somewhat too green to use,

But it still can be worked into

A new form. Ah, it's receptive here!

Good, because that's where the real

Forming takes place. Fertile ground

Accepts the most change, is willing

To take on new waves.

And so it bends here, swoops there,

Takes on more life further down. He's ready.

He's learning. Now it's time

To let it go and use the things

It's been given. And what it's willing

To take.


Peace and love,

Scot

The clay from which we were all formed started out as a mishappen slab, free and innocent of the ways of the world...

Sometimes we have to break the mold that we were poured into, to make sense of the irrational.

Thanks for sharing that poem, Scot.

Whicker