I am a maker of words 

in history, and I am the 

shaper of mystery, and 

surmise; doubt lives with 

me but I go on not knowing

why I choose to be the

maker, the taker of words

that are thrown as clay

on my Potter’s wheel,

and turned, and turned,

this way or that on

another day of fierce shaping

and turning with no one but

me to witness my pot baked

in the heat of life’s kiln.