The Inner Me

Formed From Clay

I was formed
On the Potter's Wheel.
Molding me from clay,
He shaped my very existance.
My life was formed from
His own, tender hands.
I look in the mirror
And see His creation.
What I think are flaws
Are His intentions.
He sees me as a
Perfect object, free from blemish.
Through life, as I become cracked,
He gently fixes the fractures,
Hiding the scars.
To Him I am an object of beauty,
Totally different from His other creations.