The Potter of clay

I am a potter of clay. But why did I stop throwing? Is it because I ran out of money? NO.

Is it because I don’t have a studio? NO

Is it because time defers all ambitons? NO

It is because through making I found a limit. That limit was my compassion. So I stopped and followed that compassion which led me to what I was missing, Plaster. The unmerciful, the precise, the enunciated, the loud.

My dream last night whispered visions of magnets, thermos, and balance. I have been haunted all night by this dream. So I challenged it. I asked what comes after I make you? It responded, by making me see all that I have done, all that I have learned, and so IT asked, what was the purpose of all this?

This of course struck me like a blinding light. Then I saw it…… my soul, my compassion, the work that I have chased for so long. Full of soul, of compassion, of hope.

 MAY THE WORLD NOT FORCE ME TO MAKE VAIN OBJECTS THAT ONLY EXIST FOR THEMSELVES AND THEIR CONCEPTS. THAT EMBRACE AND LET GO.

MAY I HAVE THE STRENGTH TO MAKE THINGS THAT EMBRACE AND NEVER LET GO, BUT ARE LET GO THEMSELVES.

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