I wrote this while lying on my bed and half falling asleep

Clay

I am not made
of moonbeams and stas
of the red lives of mars
Asteroid beaten and comet scarred

I am not made
through earthly ways
And all my earthly days
Are merely my temporal phase

I am more than
the tattered and torn
the looked-down-upon
the shamed and the scorned

I am made
of dullest darkest grey
of molded and fashioned clay
more than just another cliche

I hold enough
of His Grace for my needs
His Freedom to be freed
His strength for His deeds

But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.



It's been a while since I've written.
ENJOY.

Labels: poem