Back at the potter’s wheel
Where shaping needs to be done
A piece of earth’s dirt
Kneaded and soaked in water
Sloshed and trampled upon
That a fine piece might be born
Back to the spinning wheel
Where broken are mended
On a continuous turning
Swirling and twirling
At a speed fit for a fix
Just for a new shape to be
Back to the kiln house
Where flames and fire
Are the tongue spoken
Burned up in refining degrees
That I may be more than able
To withstand the pressure coming
Now I’m out of my processes, shinning
Looking better and stronger
Like a tower built of ancient times
Standing brave and fearless
Just like the raindrop from the sky
Falling without any consideration
Of who will catch it!