His hands are old and wiry
His face is long and creased
He squints at his precious work
Good eyesight long deceased
Though his years are many
And he’s seen much come and go
His work has always been this way
Tedious and slow
There’s something unique about him
Something most don’t see
No matter the cracks or nicks
He can fix your pottery
Is this not like you?
Broken all throughout
Our Father is fixing us
Complete without a doubt
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