Thursday, April 15, 2010

You and I
Have so much love,
That it burns like a fire,
In which we bake a lump of clay
Molded into a figure of you
And a figure of me.

Then we take both of them.
And break them into pieces,
And mix the pieces with water,
And mold again a figure of you And a figure of me.

I am in your clay.
You are in my clay.

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