The Potter's Hands

 In speaking with others, 

 Trapped in the day, 

 We cannot understand, 

 Coming back from tomorrow, 

 We cannot perceive, 

 Looking forward to the past,

 Within the lineage of moments, 

 Waiting all day for tomorrow, 

 Imagination lies trapped and stifled,

 Inside a fragment of possibility. 

 We are given free will to pray, 

 To God who is outside of time, 

 Not trapped within pages of the story, 

 Having to turn one by one, 

 God sees each spread before him, 

 Laid out upon the table, 

 Not limited in his focus, 

 Seeing decisions before they happen, 

 Knowing our joy before we feel it, 

 With patience God waits for us. 

 We ask in painful voices, 

 For things God already knows, 

  For needs God has already met, 

 We just have not seen the answer, 

 Trapped on the slow path in time, 

 Trying to catch up to the moment, 

 Where the answer finally comes clear, 

 Then we see the power of love, 

 Changing reality just like clay,

 Being shaped in the potter's hands. 

 And now comes the hidden truth, 

 For this love is a power God gave, 

 Even though we have weak hands,

 The heart never can fail,

 As we act in each others lives, 

 Making change that shakes the earth, 

 Spreading like fire between souls, 

 Which I see burning in your eyes, 

 Which is why nothing seems impossible, 

 When I see life through the heart.