[Clay.]

I hold upon my hand
your core, your form
The earth; a brewing storm
pooling through my veins
Closing in my door

I’ll carry you through the fields
Fleeing from where the moonlight
Strikes, and where the wind whispers
A hunt for a pure unborn

For you, I will cross
As my memory slowly sheds
and my senses, nearly mourned
By the call of the daylight
to you my being will rest, all worn

Tonight, you are in my hands
And time waits at a distance

You are core, you are form
All I am before.

WP: Hanna