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.