I am just a lump of clay for YOU,
I know!
Whatever form You make
I am just that.
Nothing else.
One moment a woman of desire.
The next, a devoted wife.
Any mould – of wisdom or of vice
Of beauty or blemish
I am all Yours to carve, I know!
But somewhere within,
Mysterious threads of thought sprout
Spreading tentacles of mystic images in my brain
Churning deeply embedded emotions,
Transforming the ordinary into the divine.
I feel I am being peeled away bit by bit.
Every piece a rotten overgrowth of pretensions.
Scratched of all scrap I am left bare
Free of a burden I had not known existed.
I now flow light amidst waves of time and space
Awaiting the final mould-
Of the Divine Image engraved for eternity.