The Chosen Or the Choice

I think i've got a handle On theory "cause and effect" It's mysterious truth is super-simple Too simple for a mortal to comprehend Who among my people Will dare again to decide his fate? One with that chance ate an apple Growing on sacred tree The choice of "blue not purple" Has always been ours But there lies the ground of battle It's either the chosen or the choice When potter says to clay "Your die is cast... ...I'll make you this way" His bid becomes first and last! Have you seen that humorous clay That fortells it's ugly future? Or one that can possibly pay For it's intelligent design? Or that which will boldy say: "I see in me a pot, and not a spoon?" I'll sit and weep that day For it is already a breathing carcass Someday, maybe someday The clay will decide its hardness Only to be broken and kept at bay It's either the chosen or the choice The potter's own hand Rocks the cradle and rewrites history Let, bows the clay in the sand Then the rest is gravy!