I've often wandered on my own,
compelling self to stand alone.
I've pondered life... in reverie,
if I could plunder time's decree.
For many thoughts would flood my mind,
I realised how paths flow blind
and with some lonely tramp I'd dined.
This maze, my mind, this shallow sea,
will never know how grows a tree.
But yet I know it matters not
how clay becomes a living pot.
How can we know if faith endures,
and measure ills that trusting cures?
...But many sceptics it still lures.
While as a child I'm reconciled
all innocence is undefiled.
Can I escape this earth-bound cloak,
or with my naked soul invoke
a conscious grasp of freedom's goal,
how much doth cost the potter's toll,
will I imbibe from wisdom's soul?
R.Owen 17/07/2021
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Author Notes
Triple-Heptastich
This is a triple-heptastich which is written in 21 lines in three stanzas of tetrameter and with rhyming of AABBCCC, and can be written as a dirge or a soliloquy.
Isaiah 45:9
Woe to those who quarrel with their Maker, those who are nothing but potsherds among the potsherds on the ground. Does the clay say to the Potter, what are you making? Does your work say The Potter has no hands? NIV
Isaiah 10:15
Does an axe raise itself above the person who swings it, or the saw boast against the one who uses it? As if a rod were to wield the person who lifts it up, or a club brandish the one who is not wood! NIV
If each one of us is precious in sight of God, and what more worth can we have than what we think God should have made us. We are unique. Christ died for the ungodly to be reconciled. Be encouraged.
Thanks for reading. R. Owen
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