Kneading My Own Clay

Why have I surrounded myself with the darkness of others?
Letting shadows fill my days as if they were my own lovers.
Why have I made my life devoid of its light,
Strayed so far from my path that even hope feels out of sight?

Why did I start asking others who I am, what I need,
Letting their voices guide me, planting doubt’s bitter seed?
Occupied with their struggles when mine are enough to bear,
I neglected the battles I should’ve fought with my own care.

I left behind what I was once carefully building,
The dreams that were forming, the foundations I was gilding.
Now the vase I wanted to shape is just a lump of clay,
While others have baked theirs, potted plants that sway.

I poured myself into their pain, into causes not my own,
And now I stand here, with nothing of my own to have grown.
I gave my hands, my heart, to mend what I did not break,
But in doing so, I forgot the journey I was meant to take.

It’s time to reclaim the light I’ve allowed to slip away,
To knead the clay again, and shape it without delay.
I’ll carve my own design, bake it in the fire of my will,
And plant a seed within it, letting my own spirit spill.

For I am not a vessel for others' burdens to fill,
But a creator of light, love, and unbroken will.
It’s time to step back onto the path I wandered from,
And reclaim the life that is mine, the light I must become.

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