Moulding Dreams

 

A world made of gault would seem

To be an impossible dream;

Clay people, you and me, 

Who are sculpted till eternity. 

We are moulded tough and strong:

To harness the wind, emerge from the throng. 

Shattered to shreds; our fates - a scrawl. 

We break, but do not fall. 

The Earth weighs down on our backs

Yet we build ourselves from the scraps. 

Clay people, you and me, 

We strive to make dreams reality.

~Mustafa