There it lay, the earth-creature spread on the dusty ground - bone, sinew and flesh like dough on a board
Slowly, gently, growing fiercer
the Maker, the baker,
breathed air, breathed fire into the creature's mouth.
Lungs swelled, heart's bellows pumped,
the earth-creature rose and stood
and from its throat came something new: a sound
like a waterfall, like a bird, like a wolf at the moon,
sound of wonder, life, power - a song.
Then the Maker, the shaker,
stirred the creature's limbs, feet, fingers
and the earth-creature stepped, turned, leapt, waved:
a spring of strength, a tiptoe tread - a dance.
Next the Maker, awaker,
spat on the creature's eyes,
clarified their mud still thick from the moulding.
Mazed, marvelling, the earth-creature
saw itself, the beasts and trees,
took flower dust and berry juice, made colours and patterns
bright as the red clay, myriad as the green leaves-a picture.
And last the Maker, ground breaker, began to tell a story
and the earth-creature carried the story on
with "once" and "next" and "then again",
a story of sky and land and water,
a story itself, of creatures, of the Maker.
This was until the story went wrong.
Yet still there were good songs, good pictures, good dances
good stories; and all along
the Maker was working, though the creature was blind and deaf,
preparing the best story, the best dance, the best picture,
the best song.

When the sun rises, do you see a round disc of fire somewhat like a guinea?
Oh no, no: I see an innumerable company of heavenly host crying,
Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty
(William Blake)

What do you see of God as you look inside yourself?


(you will need some modelling clay for this exercise)