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Pottery Shards
Rock clay sand glass paint
 from the earth they come
 beautiful functional artlife.
 
 The young warriors
 fresh with youth brash with adulthood
 strong proud run boldly into combat
 holding shields waving spears
 so naive, so confident in their immortality,
 and then blood stains the ground.
 
 So wrong gut-wrenching despicable
 the glaring pools of fresh young blood
 under shady branches on lush grass
 the river whispers sighs mourns weeps
 and the sky is harsh frightening blue.
 
 Fruits, flowers
 cool elegant serene in an icy deep cerulean
 etched in navy, indigo
 and the lady's peaceful face in the 
 palest periwinkle
 
 Deep blue lines
 crawling twisting doubling back
 looping around sunset desert blooms
 seductive, strange,
 water in Egypt's parched sands.
 
 Death life beauty ugliness simplicity mystery
 in ceramic.
 
 So wrong to hide them
 let them dust over in lonely cages.
 
 So wrong that the plates that hold the universe
 hold nothing at all.
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