Friday, December 4, 2015

The Clay

Life has crafted me,
a block of clay, sculpted,
molded, hardened, broken,
chipped, repaired, aged,
repaired again. Made whole
and unmade over time.

I was cut from a quarry of
centuries, plopped out into
a world I didn’t make and have
had no part in making. And yet,
I want to unmake so much of it.
I wish to remind the world.

Beliefs change, ideologies change,
principals change like phases of the
moon. Everything can change, does
change. A mountain isn’t a mountain
forever. Eventually it’s worn down by
weathering. Eroded into dust.

There is no perfection, there is no
truth in action, there are lies in deeds,
they’re just ideas, passing through a very
short period of time, ideas of people who
will also pass into nothingness and the void
of the universe.

Beliefs are pillars shoring up what we’ve
been told is the truth. Tear them down and
the nerve is exposed. Two or three centuries
go by and those fossilized pillars are meaningless symbols
of a backwards and bygone time. All the fighting,
struggling and manipulating is lost to new pillars of belief.

I’m made from old clay. Bloody, sweaty, trampled
clay, underfoot warrior’s whims and hopeful dreamers.
I still believe though. I still believe there’s worth to be
had in our temporary souls. I believe in humanity and
the most noble parts of our nature, even in the face
of others infernal disbelief.  

Perhaps we’re more boulder
and less Sisyphus.
Perhaps that example is all the more
reason to see that beliefs can change,
evolve, forgive and become something
common, rather than divisive.

Be unmade, be broken, be remade.
As many times as you can.
Made from the parts of many pieces
spread over time.
Change is the only truth, change is truly
the only constant.

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