Divine Mould

I am just a lump of clay for YOU,

I know!

Whatever form You make

I am just that.

Nothing else.

One moment a ravishing seductress.

The next, a devoted wife.

Any mould – of wisdom or of vice

Of beauty or blemish

I am all Yours to carve, I know!

But somewhere within,

Mysterious threads of thought sprout,

Spreading tentacles of mystic images in my brain

Churning deeply-embedded emotions,

Transforming the ordinary into the divine.

I feel I am being peeled away bit by bit,

Every piece a rotten overgrowth of pretensions.

Scratched of all scrap I am left nude, bare,

Free of a burden I had not known existed.

I now flow light amidst waves of time and space

Awaiting the final mould –

Of the Divine Image engraved for eternity.
http://www.indusladies.com/forums/poems-and-poets-place/104685-the-divine-mould.html

For Monday Poetry Train Revisited