The Golden Chalice

 Heated until it melts,
Poured into a mold,
Can it be anything 
Other than what it was meant to be?

Useful only for show,
A demonstration of power
And greed.
It sits 
Doing nothing
And can only hold so much.

It is surrounded by others,
Cups and bowls
And things meant 
Only for utility.
Not unloved,
But unlike gold
They are rarely noticed.

Their existence
Is defined by their purpose,
Their usefulness
To the ones who made them
And the ones who claimed them
For their own use.

But unlike us
Gold can be melted down,
Remade,
Reshaped,
Used for another purpose
Then what it was originally meant 
To do.

Can we ever
Escape 
The mold we were poured into?