Feet Of Clay Poem by Mary Champion

You glimpsed me as I passed you by,
Caught at the corner of your eye
And took a faint impression in your mind.
Performing all the arts you knew,
You touched and tinted, then you blew
The picture up to God-size and I find;
It isn't me you love at all,
For I'm imperfect, scared and small,
And what you love is what you've made of me.
A fiction far from my reality.

So love is overhung by fear,
That given time your sight will clear
And truth will show me as I truly am…
Unsure... No God at all… but mortal man.