It’s all about discipleship I say aloud eating away the silence now a vibrating membrane of memory cracked open by words tumbling in open space. The moist mud is magical in the potter’s tireless hands shaping and re-shaping me into a work of art. Entering the convulsions of time I peer at the patched pieces re-worked patiently so no fragments sit discarded on open shelves of unsettled innocence. A perpetual thirst draws me to an oasis as I fasten tightly on to covenant love and kindness in a trance of hope. Divine, wet fingers mold me slowly waiting for faith to grow in radiating light ready to be sent to a broken world caught between jagged spaces. I wait for the malaise to disappear as a flash of fear flies by now caught in cascading grace still pliable in the potter’s embrace.. "Just like clay in the potter's hand, so are you in my hand, House of Israel." (Jeremiah 18:6)