As I look on this ancient vase,
Through its potter's eyes I start to gaze.
Its molding in his hands I feel,
And hear the whirring of his wheel.
I ask, just why this shape and height?
Why this color, to be honored by what light?
As with a person, was it born for joy and beauty,
Or to simply serve some daily duty?
Who then bought it, and placed it where,