Self Progress

Self progress

The year is not over

Progress is rampant in the air

Around me,

Structures mold into masterpieces.

Paintings, clay, pastels, carvings, all take their shape.

When I turn back to my own work

The clay in my hands falls apart

As though it was splashed with water.

My hands recoil with the sudden wave,

The turn table moves too fast for me to catch it once more

And all that is left for me to do is watch

As what was built falls apart

On this little turntable.

Self progress looks different on everyone, don't lose yours just because it doesn't look the same as someone else's. <3