I, once a roaming spirit am I now cruelly cast into clay? with claws and cunning to feed my own vessel equipped with the tools to prolong my own life sentence? planted with the dread that I may lose this earthen jailor? I am a clay vessel fired and fragile tip and shatter . . . and be free and ethereal again. I am placed on the pivot and lean this way and that - a painful shocking fall, a price to pay for entry, to the fields of forever.