The Sculptor
I took a piece of plastic clayAnd idly fashioned it, one day.And as my fingers pressed it, stillIt moved and yielded to my will.I came again, when days were passed,That bit of clay, was hard at last,The form I gave it, still it bore,And I could change that form no more.Then I took a piece of LIVING clayAnd gently formed it, day by day.And molded with my power and art,A young child's soft and yielding heart.I came again when years were gone,It was a man I looked upon.He still that early impress bore,And I could change it, nevermore.
+Author Unknown+
In beauty may I walk.
Navajo Prayer
Email: nrghealr@hotmail.com
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