"Clay"

"Clay"
By John Heinemann

The Potter takes two lumps of clay.
It's up to Him to make it any way that he wants.
One lump can be a bowl.
And another very similar lump can be a million dollar vase.

I am a bowl {being misused as an ash tray}.
Made from exactly the same kind of ceramic as her.
The potter had the right to make me that way.
The right to make me a bowl.
And I added the ash. Added society's overused trash.

She had no ash. No trash.
She was.
She was and she loved and smiled.
Nothing more.
How many boys wouldn't have died in foreign fields if more people just were.
We were made naturally good.
We made ourselves evil because we could.
And the ones that matter listen to their nature.
It doesn't have to be all of them. Even half. Or an eighth.
Because just one person causes a family and all of their friends.
To step aside and listen. To love. To create.
Like they listened to The Potter when He said she was precious.
Like how they loved her when the unwashed masses couldn't see why.
Like they created family bonds stronger than most.

But those kinds of people are rare.
That is why they are the proverbial million dollar vase.
Those people who appreciated what they were looking at.
Will feel doubly that empty space.

Perhaps they'll teach a few others.
And with a new knowledge those others will go.
Knowing that truth is beauty, beauty truth.
That is all you know on Earth, and all you need to know.

{I am proud to say this is my brother. His talent is endless.}