POTS

My grandfather used to call them "parcels of land without deeds".  Clay pots.  They crack, they break, they become mossy, they turn into chards and finally into dust.  They come in so many sizes and shapes and can be used in so many ways.  They are found in every continent, filled with almost anything, from gold coins to water that is more precious than gold.  They carry the living liquid and cradle the dead.  We read history through them and can tell which community within a disappeared peoples made them.  They may be everyday objects, but when they survive us they become our forever tale.