"Unfired Clay" He gently molded me Into what he thought I should be But then he was gone And another came to take his place. He molded me Into something new, Destroying what I was. I rebelled and refused to hold Not liking his vision of me. Disgusted, he left too. Then others came to shape this clay, Each in their own ways, But no one has ever finished. I sat confused, Not sure of whom or what I was. Now you come to me And you dust me off; You shape me with your hands. I like what you've started But then you step back. Are you leaving me too? No, you say, You are always with me, But the rest is up to me. I am left to shape myself And free to be whatever I choose. I've only known the hands of others. I beg in a whisper, How do I know what to be? You tell me, Whatever feels right, Whatever feels good, Then I will have made me. And until then, I am Unfired clay.