Potter

Something found deep in earth
where worms eat and moles rule
where darkness always covers everything
and the dampness makes everything
sick
cold.
Lord, Potter, you took me from the earth
and chose me from the land.
Now holding me with your hands,
you use your fingers to design me.
You create of me what you desire,
and now I am in your hands.
Whatever use you have in mind
for me, Lord, Potter, I will
willingly accept it.
Only to be in your hands makes
me valuable and loved.
Potter, whatever you are forming me
into, form me well.
I want to be pleasing to you...
but only you, Lord
can form the clay.

I love you, dear Potter.

Lord Potter makes beautiful things out of dust.
Out of clay He forms marvelous blessings which are used to bless the ages.

My Potter, my Potter is He who loves me. My Potter, my Potter is He who has a purpose for me.

Lord, what beautiful story, what soothing poem are you making of my life?
You have stripped everything else away
and behold, all I have is You. 

Eternal Love,
Pottery