Creator

So, you're a creator, huh.
You might not be religious, but you are, godly.
I am sure you can feel the connection,
Your inspiration speaks to you constantly.

Your muse whom ever she is could never deserve you, no matter how you see her.
The priviledged one, she wasn't anything until you spotted and formed her.
A blank, she doesn't develop until you put your hands on her.
Like a potter and his clay, nothing until he reaches out to her.

He wants to though, and he will, but when He's ready,
And she will spin on his wheel waiting.
Patient there's no where else she'd rather be,
Knowledgeable that once he starts, he won't stop until she's complete.

Made to his specifications, to be admired by all, but only held by him,
And that's her pleasure, she would have it no other way.
This moment, it feels like divine design, because Creator,
You're my potter and I'm eternally your soft clay.