When I rest, I dream of clay- <br />Towering mountains of unshaped human potential <br />Wet with the white rain <br />Of possibilities <br /> <br />I see beauty <br />In the formless clay- <br />I see ourselves, <br />The potential to mold, <br />The potential to heal, <br />To redirect the rivers, <br />To shape our multiple cities with prudence, <br />To reform ourselves. <br /> <br />I see wonder in the clay <br />For beauty lies not only within what is, <br />But in what something has the ability to become.<br /><br />Lazarus Knix<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/clay-3/
