I am clay

From the loam of faith,

The sands of time

And the water of change.

 

 I am not what you want

But I can be as so.

You are my mold

My source of shape.

My hope for value.

 

 I am a thing of beauty

As you willed to be such.

I harden into the shape of your faith,

To endure the test time.

 

 Till I myself become a mold

To share my life

And be the vessel to carry you.

As you have carried me.

 

I am clay,

No definite shape,

No clear purpose,

No strength alone.

 

 Till you….