Gosh – Darn it! This clump of clay turned out a mess.
I have done nothing with it yet, but just the same
I can’t put my hands in it. They might well get stuck.
Then I’d have to do something with it. I’d have luck
If it turned out to be something that brought me fame.
But I’m too damned afraid to go through the process.
When I first plop my clay down with audible splat
Should I stand back and judge how my work has turned out?
I think not. That’s the easiest way to give in
To the notion that I don’t know where to begin.
I shall get my hands dirty. That’s all it’s about.
I can’t call this a work of art yet. It’s not that.
I can mold this dense clay of my life as it spins
On its axis completely through touch of my hand.
If my hand becomes idle, my fine work may fall.
Yet, that’s never a tragedy. And, above all,
It’s no reason for hanging my head in the sand.
When I mold my own clay of life, everyone wins.