When you ache for something deeply,

you break your being into shreds

Shreds of loneliness,

The pit, the lane of digress

Drowning in your own tears

Becoming the pain potter

By mulling and sculpting that pain

Caressing the wounds with a light feathered touch

Letting the pain rise

And take the shape of an empty vessel

Then we burn that wounded heart in isolation

To let it get dry and get cold blooded

Then we paint it with our self-made coloured excuses

We let that well pampered pain pot to define us

To become hard and rigid

How we all like to be a pain potter!

When you ache for something deeply,

you break, just like the earthen pot

Hard, brittle, handmade

But there is a reason to this wreckage

To be able to understand that clay

Of which this thing heart is made of

To know its possibilities

Its intricacies, to sculpt again

To smile through the pain

To be a potter of hope