The potter, the carpenter, the wife to boot, sits quietly at their table as it spins. I am the lump of clay, the trunk of the tree, the grain from the field, without form or purpose.
The love inside the potter, the carpenter, the home maker, reaches out and touches many a heart as the table spins.
As loving hands of the potter, the carpenter, and mothers, reaches out a form I become, being given meaning and purpose.
I am a living breathing form being given a life with purpose, like the image that stands before you.
Do not bow down to me; find me living inside you, giving you meaning and purpose.
The potter, the carpenter, the mothers of the world, never stop forming beauty from their heart.
Beauty is in bloom, do you smell the sweet scent in the air, do your taste buds explode with excitement, and do you feel energized not knowing where this energy came from? It’s living inside you.
Out in the world I too live, but once you buy me with your heart I become good. I am your Father. You cannot buy me with all the money in the world; it means nothing to me, only you do.
Reach out now and form meaning and purpose for beauty does bloom and spent flowers are in the vase.