I Am The Sculpture Made Of Clay

 
Grasping with desirous attachment  
Pretty illusions indeed
Spinning the wheel  
 
 today  fortunate son  
Perched on the world tree
Of a god realm
Gaze set in stone
As hungry ghosts  
Ghouls and all the hell spawn dance
 
Shiny trinkets distract one from the path
 
Spending too much time with self
The mirrors truth revealed  
Millions upon millions of possibilities  
 
Icy winds from some ancient  
long forgotten  
Dragons breath
Lingering from heroes of seldom spoken lore  
 
 
Sneezed into existence  
Little tear drops of creation  
Mere moments washed away in rain