The artisan

In my hands a lump of clay

In my mind words to say

Discarding, shaping, molding

Both statue and poem unfolding

Pealing back what's underneath

Until you reach your core belief

Out of something common you create

Reality with symbols you penetrate

One softens the fingers the other the soul

Making something of nothing is the goal

As the clay sooths the hands

Words sooth the heart's demands