The Potter’s Secret remix

 

Often in the spacious time of a dream

I replay the events of the day

I see a person that looks and seems like me, but it isn’t really me

It’s only a mask

 

This is how many people live within this decisive society

We start out like formless molds of clay ready to be molded

It can be molded slowly into a mask over time designed to withstand societies

Along with our own personal criticisms

Or we may be molded into the likeness of God

Sadly many chose to wear the mask day after day, ever hardening to protect the true inside, but I’m not much of a performer

so I chose just to be real.

 

There is a plan that if you seek you will find

A treasure of calm within the chaos of life

Silence from the outburst of a broken heart

A desert land of many miles, yet the promise land lives within

Living waters despite our busy flooded lives.

 

The potter knows your perfect eternal plan

But the strings of your mind are laced in doubt

The uncertainty of playing life like that of a master artist

Within the different octaves, lie the keys to unlock the plan my God the Potter has for you,

Beyond the mental doors that a sickened self-worth builds to block out the daily pressures that attack mercilessly upon a heart

without the armor of God

 

A life without being conformed to the potter’s hand is like living in a dream state, time melting by,

and blurry images of heaven that cause you to weep within your sleep,

But your deprived soul shouts among your own deaf ears

Your sinful mind casts a shadow where you stand,

that only moves with the light of a soul that’s attached to the heavenly Son

 

The  world will drain the living waters from you

The darkness of the evil one will paint various mirages that are really hidden cliffs

meant to destroy your progress toward the promise land

 

How far must I travel to not see the inhumanity?

To evade the emotionless judgment and critical words of the world

How far must I go to find warmth from the cold and frigid memories that don’t seem to pass?

The only place you need to is the potters heart

 

The life of Christ is prevailing enough to change any mask or mold, no matter how old,

dry or beaten it may be, into a sculpture worthy to be shown in all the earth

 

I give my life over to the potter’s hands, as he kneads what was once clay

I trust his inner witness and his ever faultless ways

The joy he displays is like a flood of peace on war fought land.

My gratitude is only faintly described in a heart filled “Thank You”

Your pottering secrets are shown in your truth; spread the word, the potter waits for you