Star Dust

I promised to formulate a poem of beauty and joy Out of this clay filled box... But all I see is the ashed earth of it the texture of its brownness and reddishness Like his skin it looks so cinnamony Smooth Like it would taste good Though we both know it will not I can drill a finger hole into the center of it and now it is a square box ...with a round hole I do not fit nicely into either shape as I am star dust and must just keep blowing around all the time