The wheel spins round and round my thoughts do go,
A centering of self and heart and clay.
This lump of dirt finds shape although it may
First push and pull as if it doesn’t know
That I’m the potter; it’s the pot I throw.
“As your creator, trust I know the way,”
I whisper, and it starts to bend and sway.
She rises tall and finds her form just so.
I’m stubborn in the path I walk and yearn
To see beyond the walls of labyrinth life.
What lies before me? A world that is rife
With fear and fire, and what’s my lesson learned?
Walk on with faith in Love who conquered strife.
From dust we’ve come; to dust we shall return.