And the pot asked the potter
What is your purpose here?
To whom do your swear your allegiance?
For what cause do you exist?
And unto what end do you advance?
Why you? Mr. Potter? Why you?
For I know I am just a pot
Fragile, and prone to damage
Brittle, and set according to your instructions
My biddings are of your will
And my existence, of your tolerance
My use is at your discretion
I know, or think I know, why I am here
But why you, Mr. potter?
I am certain of my finite comprehension
For I am just a pot
My capacity is limited by your design
My temperance is set by your intentions
My use is at your bidding
And it is by your protection that I still remain
I am after all, a creation by your desire
I am a created. Mr. Potter
But you are creator
Mover of the wheel and clay
You hold life in your arms
And by your will, you create, destroy, and recreate
Mr. Potter, you are great, and that is irrefutable
Greater than my comprehension
You are the maker, and architect
But in all I wish to know
Why you? Mr. Potter. Why are you?