If I were one who blesses I
Would bless the morning when I found
While looking for food, a bit of clay;
Not good to eat; interesting.
It wanted something I could tell
I poked it twice; it looked at me
I gave it a third eye, but then
Rubbed it out; it looked all wrong.
A bent stick drew its lipless mouth
Straight and stern but not unhappy
The ears I gave it rose too high;
I decided they were horns instead.
Do you think, friend, you’ll find your god
More pliant than this one of mine?