The Pot

I grab a handful of clay in my hand,

and set it on the spinning wheel.

I mold it into a lump, smoothing the bumps,

and carefully

shape a cylindrical vessel.

I caress it with delicacy,

using all the tools and tassels.

Shaping it with my fingers,

I smooth over the edges.

The temperature is right,

the sun is bright—

I place the pot in the furnace.

Hours pass by.

I pull out my masterpiece,

and watch it crumble,

piece by piece.

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