I sometimes wonder what the point of all of the questioning is. Are all of these questions, all of these hardships and universals truths just fodder for the grindstone? Do they just wear off all of these hard edges in my imperfect foms? Sometimes, I think that I look forward to a day when I'm finally made smooth in this potter's wheel, when all of the ridges and rough edges in my character are smoothed out and I am finally made a perfect being. Then, I wonder if that day will ever come. If that ultimate perfection will ever come to fruition. Will the smoothness of the spirit ever be made physical?
Oh, this imperfect clay. Tossed by the winds of Man on this wheel spun 'round and only You understand it's wobble.
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