Forged in the Crucible

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What things attack my standards

What things attack my stability

What are those things that sting so viciously

the ones that pierce to marrow deeper than bone

The ones that unbeknownst I've known

find ways to keep destroying me

what utter deeds beset my feet

my soul cries boldly but silently

I hang my head for its too much too deep

the years the tears cannot rebuff

and yet a purpose interrupts

I get a glimpse of  both of us

Though disappointment constantly

a part of my inheritance

but learned that those who disappoint

were merely divine  design to hollow out

to chip and mould and knock off stuff

the dross does rise when heated up

the smelt the smell of flesh corrupt

what crucible entangled me

it was my future now plain to see

I give praise now to all those "things"

who once considered unredeemed

they were the tools the Most High used

creating me as beautiful

to stand an witness frail but brave

the Potter's hand did well engrave

and now I love all those who from past

from here on out to ever last

no now the stings I see were meant

to build in me immoveable

I have the holes the bell is round

but beautiful is now the sound

the groans and aches now melody

see what has become of me

metamorphosed to usefulness

play Master play

at Your behest



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