Ancient Potter

Hands of time have traced through life
the ancient potter shapes our souls,
he holds us as we spin around
so shapeless, weak and pitiful.
At times we seem a hopeless cause,
and we break beneath his hand,
but the wheel never ceases spinning,
he picks us up and starts again.
His patience with us never dries,
he’s bound us with his love unending,
quietly picking up the pieces
his back for us is always bending.
Hands of time have traced through life
the ancient potter shapes our souls,
he holds us as we spin around
so slender, strong and beautiful.