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One for Potter

All through your life, you’ll hear holy folk say,
“He is the Potter, we are the clay.”
From Isaiah down through the present day,
“He is the Potter, we are the clay.”
But forty years in, you start to feel
That the Potter has fallen asleep at the wheel
The shape that God so finely carved
Will not return unless we’re starved
And thoughts that once arose on high
Go underground: “When will I die?”
The consolation that almost makes up:
The gobsmacked cry when the Old Man wakes up
The yawning chasm twixt is and ought
What God had planned, what God hath wrought

Comments

  1. Rufus McCain says:

    Asleep at the wheel reminds me of that other old saw: God can’t drive a parked car.

    Anyway this is deft and fine and warms the cockles of my clay. Merci mon Ami.

  2. Louise Orrock says:

    I don’t know who you mean but this reminds me I heard today, and I may have heard the same person or someone else saying the same thing, as I was looking at racks of clothes outside, ‘three for a dollar, God’s style’.

  3. Louise Orrock says:

    Or it may have been three for ten dollars.

  4. Quin Finnegan says:

    Yowza—this is tremendous. Gratias Tibi.

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