A vase sat upon a pedestal

Reflecting light

Its shining surface shone all aglow

Defying night

A servant now worked, cleaning the vase

With careless hand

Now the masterpiece fell from the base

Off of the stand

Upon the ground it did shatter

Countless pieces

Beauty unmade into base matter

No More priceless

The servant trembled with fear and shame

Proclamation

The King damned and cursed the servant’s name

Condemnation.

Then the Potter came.

In the servant’s mind, fearful dread grew.

Over the vase,

He spoke, “Behold, I make all things new.”

He beheld grace.