Water and clay

Change brings about the falling
Ice turning to rain sliding away into the dirt,
Muddy clay that sticks to the soul
To the hands that dig for truth
In the passing of a thought
Led silently astray.
Following
The gentle movement of time
As it lays shining like glass
Broken on the pavement
Of just another day
Wrecked by the mind that grows weary
As thought betrays with energy
And a starseed awakens to words on pages
Dust to dust
Filters through the furnace
Sucked in to the pipe
Of eternity.
White coats cold
Fingers tight throbbing
Holding the light
Trying to see
That which will keep safe
Coyote dreams of death
As the scorpion goes forward
The journey known from its being
It’s destiny of destruction
If taunted into the sting
The memory brings.
I see the beauty yet feel apart
From silver drops that fall flat
Smashed to pieces
Caught up on boats made of leaves
And I whisper to the bitter wind
Coming home was all she said.

Beautiful art found at : http://krishay-moehr.artistwebsites.com/index.html

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Published by

InfiniteZip

I am a sometimes poet on a quest to master the universe of my mind. My writing runs the gamut of nature, off beat, life and basically the world as I see it through the windows of my eyes. Welcome to my blog. Sit a spell in your big comfy armchair or favorite spot and read for a while if it suits and don't forget to leave a comment to let me know who you are and all that jazz. Looking forward to what each day brings and catch you on the flip side of the stars. Peace and blessings.

5 thoughts on “Water and clay”

  1. As I clicked on the comment button I didn’t know I was to agree with Kat. Coyote dreams of death is a great verse. I am intrigued at your creative process. I wonder how you “catch” the words in the wind, or breeze?
    😉

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I spend a lot of my wake up in he middle of the night staring at stars. I breathe deeply and just listen. Clearing my mind of all but the sounds of the wind I breathe, meditate if you will. When I return indoors I sit down and open the page and the words just flow. I don’t always start a poem knowing what I will write, I just relax and let the words that I caught on the wind flow through me. We have coyote in the woods occasionally and as the moon fills the night with light, you can sometimes hear them howl and yip….scary yet they are just being themselves….they dance in my dreams with wise eyes that stare through the night. Thanks my friend…a channel to words from the universe I suppose. Peace and blessings, K

      Liked by 1 person

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