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.