after nine long months
a plod of clay is placed on a wheel
the potter nurtures it with dream and hope
he knows not about his or his plods destiny
days were numbers and went on
a touch of love and warmth
the clay began to take shape
the potter was fed up making pots
he tried something else with his clay
forgetting what he s best at
the clay blemished
the whole world laughed
humility killed the potter
but the blemished clay awaits for its revival...
Ojaswi Machiraju
22.12
01 Feb 2011
this is how most things happen in kife. what we need is perseverance and hope!