Return to Clay #99

You passed through me
like smoke passes through my fingers
Either touching me or swaying on my touch
mingling with me or not allowing to saunter
I knew you since decades, My Man
But, Somehow you are sculpted again
Reassuring but divided
free yet strangled
To the paths where you would lead
are Intentional;
Sway or play
Yay or Nay

You are born for returning to Clay!