We sit in the mud... and reach for the stars.
I am nothing but a mud man, a mud dough once i was. I am nothing but a clay. Still i wish for the stars to come and fall in my hands. The hands that have no soul, the body that has no power, just a poor clay work. I am no one to point you down, to destroy your smile, to bury your sorrows.
You are nothing but a piece of some land. Ultimately You don't have the power and the wish to disgrace the other clay works. It's the mud not the waterfall that gave you the identity. It's not the quality but the mistake that gave you recognized. It's not the love but the hatred that gave you worth...it's not the gold but the clay that's the part of us. Then why do you strive for the perfection when we all are imperfect in one way around.
Mud, it comprises each and every single nutrient, the body of my ancestors, the precious stones, the life, the leaves.. still we fear it..
You and I are similar still we don't live together, but you and I will be up there in the same place striving to find the similar ones. The ones, you don't care about, the ones you don't worry about.
A sea of mud, nothing but a sea of mud...!
Before I was humiliated I was like a stone that lies
in deep mud, and he who is mighty came and in his compassion raised me
up and exalted me very high and placed me on the top of the wall.
