Strong Hands

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.