The marble is there

In the center

It is embedded

The clay has hardened

The kiln has done it's job

The shape is finalized

The marble is still there

Hard and round

It is silent

Words trigger it

Words like" trouble" and "punish"

Those words twist it

 within the globe shaped

Formation.

The marble is stuck.

It activates

As the round clay form travels

Around the sun.

There was a time

When the clay was still soft

That fingers could have gently

Reached inside

To remove the marble

But now the oven

Has baked the clay

And that can no longer happen.

So the marble exists there.

Sometimes it can be forgotten.

Until words penetrate the clay

And the marble is felt

 it does it's job

The only job it knows.

It trembles.

The whole globe of clay trembles also.

And that is the womb in which fear is formed

That is the channel where fear is born.