What, oh, what does one do with it?
How does one proceed after receiving it;
Some reckless love,
A stream of mercy,
And showers of grace,
Never again to leave us thirsty?
We'd like to think we'll take it in,
Embrace the moments marching in,
But the truth,
It is more sinister -
A mirror
Reflecting our interior.
We're frightened at the thought
Of our walls coming down,
Our self-destructing plans coming to nought
For, after all, it is ours.
And the stream which runs in mercy,
So deeply undeserved,
What if it never stops
And our worlds forever floods?
It's dreadful:
The thought that we fear the light,
Since the brightest and purest of smiles
Inadvertently causes us to divert our sight.
A/N:
Hi everyone! I hope this poem somehow spoke to your heart, because it's arguably my favorite of the whole bunch.
I simply wanted to announce that this book is now very very near its end. There is, however, a great chance that I'll throw in a few extra poems and a much smaller chance I'll just keep updating this book till I feel like it's "enough".
Thanks (a LOT!) for reading this book up until now, especially the ones who showed their support through votes and who took some time to leave a comment. It truly means a lot!
And if you haven't already, I'd like to ask you to be so kind as to take about two minutes to vote on each of the previous chapters (including this one of course), as it helps out immensely.
Once again, merci!
YOU ARE READING
Clay
PoetryA collection of poems flowing like a river from a heart made of clay, as it groans while being molded and when fired, screams in pain; yet rests in the knowledge that the Potter's handiwork will certainly be great.
