We are but specks of dust
In the smallest of places
So miniscule yet so insignificant
Our value is measured
Not by who we desire to be
But merely, by what we already are
Man was created from mud
Like clay, mended into something beautiful
But tested by heat and pressure
The debilitating heat freezes us
Halts our desires
We have no place to look
Not around us, not beneath us
Only within ourselves
Our colors insignificant
For mud carries the same color
But what makes us so unique?
Let it be our shape, perhaps our size
Certainly not
For this would be pure naivety
It is our twists and turns during the heat
Very thoughts of every piece of us
The parts of our fracture, fall, and melting
But these usually go unnoticed
We are shape shifting everyday
In the smallest of increments
It is not until the final days
Where we see how our transformation
Has changed us for the best

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