An Ode to a Ship

With her pompous horn and a winsome mast,
Those intriguing aisles and the deck so vast,
With a proud nose that were to pen glorious tales,
Amidst hurrays and cannons she did set sail.

With determined rotors to cut the demoniac currents,
With sails to guide the winds that came in torrents,
With stoic mast that stood a symbol of her esteem,
For decades she wrestled the oceans’ gory seam.

And then that one gush that undid her sail,
The valiant rotors that laboured yet failed,
Alas! That one wave that finally humbled her deck,
The seas had conspired in this project of wreck.

The winds that bowed now deemed to vow,
The unsurpassable deck now at a piteous low,
The rudder that guided now forced to abide,
Her entire self trapped in the claws of the tides.

But, gauge her not by this heart-wrenching sight,
Her victories are greater than any ocean’s might.
The winds might threaten to ravage her frame,
But Time would step forth to declare her fame.

I know not her purpose or her destination,
I am not to judge for then, how come this aberration?
Keep her mast aloft O Lord, in Thy mysterious ways,
Grant her, her esteem and gift her Thy Grace.

This is in tribute to those heroes who did countless feats in their healthy days, but now are afflicted with diseases and troubled by age. They might be a pale shadow of their earlier selves, their bodies might have broken down. The world might write them off, but beneficiaries of their heorics must stand up and pray. Not out of sympathy but out of love.

The Potter's ways

Potter:
The touch of my palm and the speed of my wheel,
Brings forth to reality my imagination’s zeal.
Burnt by the furnace and abandoned by Time,
Tested by my rod and finally worthy of a dime.

Requested by the little girl, the potter explains his process – he creates his object with his palms on the wet mud that is driven by a rotating wheel. He then burns the wet formation to high temperatures in the oven, then allows it to cool for an exceptionally long time(abandoned by time). He checks its hardness by tapping the pot with his rod. Only when he is confirmed of the quality he puts it on the selling table, else, he sends it back to the furnace. The little girl completely “mis-understood” the information as:

The little girl:

The wheel of time and that touch of Divinity,
Brings forth our lives, weighed by serendipity.
Burnt by troubles and abandoned by solutions,
Our misgivings fall prey to wisdom’s lotions.
And finally the He declares our worth proven,
Or alas the failure leads us back to the oven.

By the Will of God(the palm) and the governed by Time(the wheel), we take birth in line with our serendipity. We are then put through a lifetime of troubles and sorrow(in the furnace); we are left to feel abandoned and defeated. All this slowly only transitions our way of thinking and lifestyle from that of weaklings to strong individuals, steeped in wisdom and character. And based on our advancement(tested by the rod), we are either ready to live happily ever after, or are sent back to the cycle of seasoning.
The potter was the famous Saint Gora Khumbar and the little girl when on to become a great saint whose name I fail to recollect.