Raymond A. Foss Poems

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Clay, the stuff of the potter,
Kept wet throughout,
To be molded, shaped,
Starting over, again and again,
By the potter’s hands
Until it is finished,
The die never cast,
The final curtain
waiting until the end
Able to be shaped and reshaped,
Pliable and compliant
To the end

September 9, 2007 14:30
Jeremiah 18:1-11, Psalm 139

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