Poetry

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An empty Jar rejected and useless was I.
Filled with tasteless water, I cannot deny.
Then the Master came to me one day,
He had use for me, come what may.

Dirty, useless and ugly dents had I.
He washed me clean, both inside and outside.
Purposeless seemed the cleansing, when water was filled,
Little did I know what plans to fulfill.

He took me along with five other friends.
We were left alone with the Master again.
He touched every corner of us turning water into wine.
Place of privilege and honour to find.

An empty useless jar we may be,
But remember the Master has need of thee.
If life seems as tasteless as water,
It simply means you have need of the Potter.

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