I have tried in vain
To stand against the grain
To be what I am not.
For years I have fought to be more than human.
I have longed to exceed expectations
Of my creation.
To be a perfect being
To distinguish feeling
I must accept this clay form.
Only then can it be molded into truth.
My hands tremble, an artist I am not.
I must humble myself to be lifted up.
Only then can I achieve what I cannot.