Turning the wheel
The foot pedal taps incessantly.
The Claymaker, the Potter, works on his creation.
Shaping, his masculine hands pressing against the spinning clay
Feeling its deformities, and cracks.
The Finished project reaches the kiln
The world effected, Made through the fires of the universe
But with the simple guidance of the potter
Symbolising the natural chaos of the world
With only the barest guidance from the physical aspect of the Divine.
The world makes itself, spun from the threads of chaotic implementation
And woven by the power of the cosmos
Entertaining the liquid of the soul
Poured like molten lava over the firm clay
Cast into the fires of creation.