While my prose may sometimes be passable, I have no talent for poetry. Unfortunately, that doesn’t keep me from trying now and again. A few thoughts rolled around in my mind in the shower after zazen today. My apologies in advance.

In this Genesis spoke well:
We are born from the earthen clay.
But it is ours to mold
into the likeness of God.

Even in our youth
must we work the clay,
daily throwing ourselves
upon the wheel,
with each turn,
through the motion of our feet
and the guidance of our hands,
a fitter vessel crafting.

If the clay should harden
into frozen stone
before the final turn,
and we find ourselves
misshapen, imperfect,
not fit for the final glaze,
let us not despair.

Rather, take we chisel in hand,
and slowly chip our defects away.
For just as David emerged
from his flawed marble
a masterpiece,
so shall we.