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Robert W Mullin

of

Tickton, Beverley, England, UK

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The Potter

by

Robert W Mullin



Some the potter’s hand distorts,
Some He fashions in Godlike form,
Some by chance their minds contorts,
And casts adrift in torrid storm.

Perhaps a deliberate act by Him,
To show us naught is perfect in heaven and earth,
And help us choose between good and sin,
And by our choice display our worth.

So some in beauty’s perfection born,
Conceals misshapen forms within,
Not rejected, but by the potter thrown,
To be filled with nectar to the brim.

Could He be so exasperated with his task,
To smash it all into oblivion,
Or accept that we should never ask,
For more than beauty from within.

The hand that gently casts the mold,
Will not easily destroy the dream,
But imparts His beauty to behold,
To be held by all in high esteem.