the potter’s wheel

Everyday begins anew

trials and tribulations may be few

but You use them each and every one

to mold and fashion the clay that sits

upon Your potter’s wheel.

You gently soften and move the clay

unto the form You desire.

Taking care not to squeeze too hard

and damage the form beneath You.

I sit upon the wheel of life

and lovingly feel Your hands upon me

gently rubbing and smoothing out

the imperfections You see.

Tenderly You care for me

and desire only what is best.

I know the pain will not last

and I will be Your very best.

You add some water to Your hands

to soften the hardened clay.

The warmth of Your hands

gives way to movement.

And slowly the clay bends

to Your touch.

Pliable I am in Your fingers.

Gently and lovingly through filtered fingers

I become more like You each day.

the potters wheel

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