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The Potter and the Blacksmith..

I can hear the distant muted sounds,
Sounds that are clouded in mystery and memory,
Hammer steel, scree,
Clank,
Clank,
Clank, metal on metal
Brazen and hard the un-pliable steel,
Forged by sweat and blood,
I can feel it, feel it in my bones,
Turning, banging, pulling, forming
The Master bending and clanging upon His proud work-in-progress,
For some are like the clay upon the potters wheel,
Easily pliable, soft and fragile, made for a specific purpose,
While others are hard like the steel whom the blacksmith
Heats and beats into a formidable weapon,
The work is more laborious and strained,
And the trials and tribulations we face at times unbearable,
But oh the lethal force wielded in hand.
The steel and clay did not choose its own design or composition,
It can only relent to being used for that which it was made.

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