Ashes; four things round

We begin

as solids

sure forms of resilient clay

Knowing only what our material knows

Being only as material is

We are certain

We grow

We reach out

We wrap ourselves around

We fold ourselves into

Encircled

And permeated

Greater, we become

less whole

We become

ephemeral as webs

The fabric of our being eaten away

By loss

By grief

By doubt

By fear

By trial

By acceptance

By love

We find our limit

even as we are yet

solid enough

supple enough

We sense in our own material

that our material cannot hold

We end

unmoored,

we are blown away,

tattered

we calcify

and shatter

we become a hole in

another's web