The Potter

Whether at the Earth’s center or Babylon,
Whether the Cup with Sweet or Bitter run,
The Wine of Life kept oozing drop by drop,
The Leaves of Life kept falling one by one.

Were it not folly, spider-like to spin
The Thread of present Life away to win-
What? For ourselves, who know not if we shall
Breathe out the very breath we now breathe in!

And, strange to tell, among that Earthen Lot
Some could articulate, while others not:
And suddenly one more impatient cried-
“Who is the Potter, pray, and who, the Pot?”

The Potter

rickveloz

Yucaipa, United States

  • Artist
    Notes

Artist's Description

Hang no lock of silence on these lips.

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