I don't come here as much as I need to, but I try to every so often.
I've come this time to post a poem I have written
Ceramic
Fires harden me
Earth shatters my soul,
Held upon my own I stand
Shape me, mold me
Use me, complete me
My life is in the Potter's hands
For he holds my very existance
Fashion me into a thorn, for piercing a side
Though I'd proabally break on contact
Fashion me as a crown, for standing on a brow
But not so elegant am I.
Shattered thorn, poor man's crown,
Either I may be, but as I am made
I shall be made to stay, this is my only being
My life is in the Potter's hand.
Create me, destroy me
It's up to the Potter's hand
My essence is only to be
Whatever I am created to be
Until the day I shatter.