earth is not our kiln
we are like raw clay at birth
laying there ready to be formed
we're put on life's spinning wheel
being continually formed into some shape
some of us by gentle hands become
ready to paint ourselves
some of us by strong hands become
nothing but unknown figures
some of us wait on life's wheel
hoping for someone to show us
some of us take pieces from ourselves
and give to others leaving us weak
some of us steal pieces from others
barely leaving anything for us to form
we try to be ready to be fired in the kiln
but not until we reach heaven, shall we be complete
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