Onto the spinner we throw our selves down to mold.
A gray soft canvas of reliance, to shape ourselves into the beautiful piece we will become.
As we spin, and mold, to become greatness we sow.
We come off the spinner, soft, and cold.
In the image we want, to the thing we will be.
To dry, to harden, we burn in the kiln, we are fired.
We are heated, to the highest of degree, enduring the greatest test of all.
Then comes the glaze, no matter what color we are, no matter what mold, or what vase.
We are all human, all created equal. Molded, thought over, considered with beautiful thought, maybe even a little evil.
We're all beautiful in all of our ways, but we all start from square one.
Clay.