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