WITH NIMBLE TOUCH, I SHAPE THE CLAY

With nimble touch, I shape the clay,
A vessel born from yesterday.
Rusty keys unlock the past,
Forgotten treasures meant to last.

Swirls of color dance and sing,
A brushstroke whispers what to bring.
Molded features, smooth and bright,
A canvas yearning for the light.

Feathers cradle, soft and warm,
Seeds of promise safe from storm.
Against the rock, a primal beat,
Shattered fragments, incomplete.

From open wounds, a nectar sweet,
Life's essence flows, both strong and fleet.
Surrender's call, a whispered plea,
Body and mind, eternally.

From dust I rise, from dust I fall,
A phoenix cycle, answering all.