I've been thinking about this concept for a year now. Last Sunday I was at church and I mentioned it at Sunday school. I wrote this poem when I got home.
So Many shapes
Take a piece of clay, so many shapes it takes.
Only the imagination limits what it makes.
Then it comes to life, from clay ball into real,
So valuable it is, that you could buy or steal.
The clay disappears into man or dog,
The truth of what we see is in magician's fog.
But in the end, that horse, that looks like it could nay,
Or the man looking proudly on, are still made of clay
This is like commandments, we get from above.
Some rules seem restrictive, to always live thereof
The laws that we must follow, look and feel so hard
Sometimes it feels impossible, like heavens gates are barred.
Remember then the image, of a man or horse or dove
Because just like clay, commandments are all made up of love
So Many shapes
Take a piece of clay, so many shapes it takes.
Only the imagination limits what it makes.
Then it comes to life, from clay ball into real,
So valuable it is, that you could buy or steal.
The clay disappears into man or dog,
The truth of what we see is in magician's fog.
But in the end, that horse, that looks like it could nay,
Or the man looking proudly on, are still made of clay
This is like commandments, we get from above.
Some rules seem restrictive, to always live thereof
The laws that we must follow, look and feel so hard
Sometimes it feels impossible, like heavens gates are barred.
Remember then the image, of a man or horse or dove
Because just like clay, commandments are all made up of love
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