Await Poem by Ojaswi Machiraju

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