Bi-Harry Poetter

If god was a potter,
who would shape his beings with his bare hands,
dancing his fingers over every line,
raising some and caving some,
signatures on the body,
that make you different.
moles, flesh, color and curves
wonder what he would be wondering when doing so,

when he would be giving you the finesse.
wonder what he would have thought when giving you a soul,
wonder what would have gone in his mind,
when he would plant you in womb,
writing on your palms the many lines,
must he remember those
which he must have drawn with same passion,
that lines of a few would intersect the ones on your hand.

does that crossing lead to another destiny,
or does he leaves us with our own choices,

is that why he leaves us a soul.
a body shaped, a mind ignited and our souls to guide us through.