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

From thought.

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.