The icy clouds of dark moisture covering the beams from the kiln of
heaven freeze unknowable possibilities in my mind. I observe, in the
pallid grayness of the afternoon, the birth of illogicalities in
frozen metaphors eddying across my soul.
As cold ashen clouds form, they abandon their obscure quest of all,
that, which is unattainable. Then the heat of the atomic furnace,
which obliterates tumultuous memories from our minds, melts the
misgivings of my stolen thoughts.
As I watch newly created visions appear, over the church's steeple, in
the form of brilliant egrets wading in melting snowflakes my mind
attempts to transform the enigmas of the unpleasant paradoxes in my
Like an earthen bridge that spans the impossible divides of rushing
contradictions, the inner transformations of my soul are carried
safely to the other side. Abandoned hopes, like shards of brown clay,
are crafted into new vessels.
I look into the mirror of life, sigh a life-giving sigh at the
translucent pottery emerging from the oven of creative alteration, and
begin a bright new day, braided with streams of new expectations.