The Painted Vase 1

By the Potters wheel. Nothing but a lump of clay. Thirsting to be made something.

The thought of being a magnificent piece.
A blank check signed already, waiting to be used. The clay that sat in a line full of other clays waiting to be molded had finally come to the front of the line.

The controversy that could erupt from what this clay might become.

The Potter wiped his hands on his apron, and eased the perspiration from his head. With a zealous idea on what to make of this particular piece of clay.

It was the dry red humps' turn on the Potters wheel. The Potter sat down and begin to pour the water while he used the foot petal. Something interesting had begun.

Before this day that hump of clay sat waiting, hoping, and desiring that it be made something extraordinary.  It wanted it's own design, color, pose, and element of awe inspiring beauty.

The Potter began shaping this piece of clay. He wiped off the access that started to overlap. He stopped the wheel for a moment and began again.

It was almost as if the Potter had become one with the piece of clay.

To be continued.......