Clay Song

Idol maker...

Sculpt me into many bodies,

in love and despair, I will speak to you in my clay voice.

When you've finished these patterns you're making on my hand

I will touch you on the deepest night and bring you a gift of tranquility.

Your desires are new like the smell of my thirst quenched in the first rains

Your fears I know, when the flood-gates open and I hold on to nothing - that slipping away feeling.

I shall belong to the earth you stand on when you're tired of running

Pick me from my stillness and let me be the birth of an idea.

Walk in fields where I live cared for by the sweat of women and songs

of children when they first understand the beauty of freedom.

Imagine me in twilight, when all is lost, and you have to let me go

Throw me to ether and I shall travel through many stories once more.

Follow the voice of the dust storm then, and when it tires of raving and ranting

I shall be there as Morning.

Take this clay and start again,

to make me.