A Sculptor of Life
by FeatherMoon Poet
Entangled by floating words and fluctuating emotions
Anywhere, somewhere between a concept and reality.
I deeply feel its mere existence
Confining, blinding in darkness unto itself.
No beginning or ending lies within
Tormenting without escape,
Absorbing my mind
Forming and waiting,
Till my choice becomes hardening and undoing.
All things being that of great and small
Lay dormant and unknowing
Seeking emotions and words to give them life.
Yet in the realms of my heart is that of red clay
Spiritual shadows dwell in mounds of naked beauty,
Yielding, yet piercing into the cracks of dim light.
Before me and wit