A Pot's Purpose.

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There once was a pot

crafted by a master of pottery

When shaped he was fulfilled

The thrill of purpose filled his emptiness

little did he know the kiln was his next destination

too brittle to fulfill his purpose

too excited to see the end of the road

The fire was his birth unto life as it is

Confused as to why this pain was engrained

with a coating of beautiful hues

reds and blues, anything that would remind you

of the wonders of life

Dead inside he made a beautiful corpse

The master craftsman beheld him with wonder,

“My gifted creation, your purpose is Asunder.

Wondrous magnificent plunder of my summer. I wonder .. did you rob me or did I

volunteer my thunder amongst the rubble you grew beautiful amongst of.”

The shelf became his home

Dust continued to roam amongst the shattered bones of the others born

who bloomed only under the moon

Before he knew it he was consumed in a void of

swirling fumes that seemed to float amongst

the moon, gravity was still there

its pull even increased, but he was grounded

with the belief of his purpose

Conformed with his outer workings it filled

his emptiness with a sense of purpose

He knew what hurt is, but now he

knew it was worth it

He’d been through the worse of it

Filled with the breath of life

he passed her along to those who needed

her the most and held her close in between

They were built for each other for the

benefits of others

Devoted for the moments they’d relish in

Thirst was the curse that fractured

them

Emptiness was never felt again,

only longing for a friend

He’d be refilled and they’d begin again

He knew what he was made for.

written by Troy Pierre II