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| An Actual Lay's potato chip |
I dove into a dream, just the other day. There were two Strong Hands and some balls of clay. The hands were large, sturdy, did I say Strong? With fingers, stretching, nice and long. Watching from afar, I was very intrigued, interested was I..yes indeed. So I watched quietly, silent as I could, didn't want to interrupt that wouldnt be good. After a few seconds of thinkn the hands began. They pulled, and rolled what appeared to be man. Sculpted finely, porportinate too. The hands kept busy, they knew what to do. They clapsed, and closed, touched, n molded. When no thoughts came to mind, the strong hands were folded. It was as if they were seeking perfection, time was needed for the next direction. Never rushing they followed a pace. Especially with the fine details found on the face. I was so consumed I walked without thought. When I stumbled over myself, I thought I was caught. But the hands went on not minding me. What only took moments seemed like eternity. And before long all was right. THE strong hands clapped at the magnificent sight. Scuplted perfection I saw that day. A Man had been created from balls of clay. Then all of a sudden out of nowhere. I was missing, no longer there. In the midst of it all yet I didn't understand. The creation was me, you, the work of STRONG HANDS. Every detail of us, what we see today, were the work of STRONG HANDS and a few balls of clay.
