If at the voter’s booth I was given potter’s wheel and clay,
And told, “Make a victorious president this day!”
I would not know how to start or where to play.
But since you asked, this much I’ll say:

If at a potter’s wheel I spun,
I’d mold his heart as if a son’s.
I’d coddle him with loving care,
That with the wise his portion would share.

I’d mold his heart as genuine gold.
His attitude to be far from cold
He’d take instructions joyfully,
Wise at heart my president would be.

His heart is where my hands would start,
Yet moving on, I’d continue my art.
To the president’s mind I would go,
And into it, reminders throw.

A president is made to serve,
Conceitedness he should reserve.
Truthfulness must be enjoyed,
An honest tongue must be employed.

Your family – a special thing,
Ties to success, much like a string.
Through family struggles, character thrives,
A man of strong character will survive.

Next his arms I’d take in hand.
Yes, a man of strength would rule the land.
With inner strength he’d plod along,
By this man’s virtue the nation made strong.

His hands would be calloused, yet gentle still.
His caring heart noble deeds fulfill.
Ever ready, never at his side,
His hands would cause his people in peace to abide.

Looking at his back, I’d pause,
Lingering in wonder, and that because
His back must support a heavy weight,
All this given at incredulous rate.

So skillfully, I’d mold and spin,
Endurance must never give in.
Fear not burdens, carry them well.
Work hard and you will excel.

Almost done, yet still one more,
His feet must know what to stand for.
Stand for mercy, stand for truth!
Walk in righteousness from your youth.

My hands would leave the potter’s wheel,
Over my vessel I would gently feel.
This vessel would be for ruling a nation,
He’d be its trusted expectation.

A man who leads a righteous life could rule a righteous nation,
If a righteous man does not exist, why the procrastination?

A perfect man does not exist,
To perfection, good things we’d miss.
Men not mighty must persist,
To become men who could enlist.

If I could change a teeny thing in any tribe or land,
If America would be different, nothing I’d withstand.
I’d change the way our people thought so victory would abound.
Then America would be filled with every good and joyful sound.

Do I have a special dream?
That people and nations would live righteously.
This matter does my heart esteem,
So this I call my potter’s dream