"I am but clay," the sinner plead,
Who fed each vain desire.
"Not only clay," another said,
"But worse, for thou art mire."

by Paul Laurence Dunbar

Comments (1)

'Distinction' is only the beginning of a potentially poignant poem which could have been further developed in lyric and rhyme to show how while we are all but clay, the variations in how we respond as we are 'neaded' by life determines whether we harden to brick, soften to mire, or come to be somewhere in between.