broken pottery
Man (the species not gender) is futile.
Our hearts can only muster a faint amount of strength on our own..
We search constantly for amusement or fulfillment in order to pass our time..
Yet when all things fade away.. we are left bare and depleted.
Its easy to be disillusioned, by the temporary..
People have spent forever, searching for ways to mask the pain of humanity..
So often I find myself.. pushing, looking, wanting, trying, doing, and failing…
I am easily reminded of my feebleness .. my value lacks the luster of a shiny new coin..
I am tainted, I am bruised, I am broken, I am weak, I am wrong…
Yet in my weakness, I find strength…
A solemn surrender consumes my inner being..
My lack is met with His grace..
As His light burst thru the cracks of my broken pot..
