the story of your life

The story of your life Is a soft piece of clay Waiting to be shaped by the whole of creation.

Unknowingly or purposefully or both, we think that the cup is already formed. This is the way it is, solid and unchanging.

If it breaks, it silently leaves the world with no print. If it cracks, it bears the burden for the rest of time. If it is misused, then this is writ into its entire being.

But the clay will never harden. It cannot.

Conversing with the world, the sculptor and the clay intertwined mutually shape each other. They cannot exist independently.

You whisper, that the clay is still soft, and you realise that it will remain so. It can be shaped in an infinite different ways, ways which are sometimes more generous, than the current form