I see a man haunted by his own fears

I see a man who terrorized by his own failures afraid by each step that he takes

as if he know that failure and defects trails him

 

I see an artist stepping back to admire his work

glancing at his other creations while the paint drys

see the man is the artist's creations

the artist does not make mistakes

his eraser feels unused

 

you see that the man is me.

 

I see myself as clay in the artist had but not soft and malleable

but hard and brittle

affected by the past hardened by the sun and the heat of my failures

but yet

 

The artistic eye of the Creator sees a master peace with in me, but all I see are  my fears

 

This is what makes me happy

Knowing that since I'm just clay i have an artist

who molds me in who I'm supposed to be

 

how does he do what he does

I guess a true magician never reveals his tricks