Vast and wide is whare my arms will reach on the potters wheel i have been formed no pain nor happiness is ever waisted. No mold only formed by the potters hand built and rebuilt as every pedal of a rose must be placed in the right spot to display it's beauty cut at times yet not by man's hand but by the potter himself to display His mastery. Colors perfectly shaded time taken for each pedals detail. "OH" but the beauty that rises from the clay it can barely waite to shine knowing she was designed by the greatest poter ever known. Pain is not forgotten but nolonger feels the cuts and the brokenness of the rebuilding yet will be rembered and rather is replaced by the Honor that she be chosen to be a rose. And can answer to the seeds of tiny buds that are bluming only her beaty as proof of that the process will bring forth hope and delight courge to let the master builder take His time and that they too will shine with the light of God and have there days of dancing in the sun and there testimony will become contagious as a vast and wide fields or roses spreads across the land that the world around them would have a longing in there heart to become a Rose and with each rose added to the field a love like the world has never known springs up around them with a smell so sweet.