The Master Potter
Spinning life as it unfolds
A thousand voices are screaming in the directional pulling of one’s thoughts — yielding further abashment. External forces were unnatural to self-lending and deposited memories of intuitive flow.
Approaching the spinning of wheels mesmerizing sound — activating ancient vibratory healing songs. Singing begins — opening to a sacred space — guarded by ancestors awaiting the potter’s touch.
The scent of tobacco and patchouli filling the air’s dancing with Tara’s Healing breath — heart-centered alongside pedal afoot. Fear remains in collective thought — short-lived in the silencing of echoing cries.
Placed at the center — sits virgin clay — awaiting the potter’s interpretation of the vacant form. The pulsing rhythm of tapping feet — turning life’s traumatic stones into a pliable medium.
Dipped thumb’s penetrating soul’s favorite pie — blueberry stained fingertips — fanning to the outer edges of a cosmic dance. Breath-infused misery — healing crawling from base to fanning lips — life takes its form.
Silenced voices begging to be heard — potter continues the internal journey — nothing to something greater. From dust, clay is formed — to dust’s articulating song.
Ancestors and visions of present-day infused — standing behind in anticipatory fashion. With hands salivating to grab hold — from novice to master potter, the pottery wheel turns — ignoring the what ought to do’s.
Acknowledging original form — created by decades, maybe millennia — a lump of coal staring back into the voided soul. Beyond the roads — traveled pilgrims stomping to various beats — lump in throat turning into melodious healing ballads.
Novice to Master — in a single step — canticle of ages taking shape. True to the spirit — forgotten way — Master potter spinning life as it unfolds.
~ Ani Po
Much gratitude for those who take time to read, ponder, and allow the inner workings of self to come forward. Grateful for the feedback, love shared, and, more importantly, the Dance with Inspiration. Deep Peace.