An ode to Indoor Plumbing

[nenafay]

O piece of mud and mud in me
Thou lurchest so and grind in grit
But movement's not the end of it.
We have not ventured far from shit;

And any progress we have earned
Is over-milled and over-churned
'Til nought remains to be unlearned
And pinnacles stand glaring glazed.
But earthen vessels know command.

We, little children made of clay
In hope to be sun-baked one day
Must wallow forth and not ignore
The porcelain shards amid the sand.