I Am The Sculptor of My Own Image

Wed, 03/04/2015 - 04:46 -- gprz_


A piece of clay, a piece of mind.

A sense of self I hope to find.

I wet my fingers then lick my lips,

I feel the clay beneath my fingertips.

Year after year, it’s always the same,

Perpetually pawing at an incomprehensible aim.


Some days, I feel close to the finish,

But soon enough, I feel that confidence diminish.

I flatten the model, and begin again,

Hoping this attempt will not be in vain.

Re-molding, re-shaping the same confused heap

I realize patience should not be buried so deep,

A model of mine may never enter the furnace,

Time moves with an unpredictable sternness.

One day, expectation and reality will coalesce

Regardless, this clay I am proud to possess.

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