In the Potter’s Palm
No. 105 I passed a potter’s workshop yesterday,From dust he shaped his craft from yielding clay.I saw—though heedless eyes perceived it not—The earth of fathers in each potter’s palm at play.* Philosophical Reflection This quatrain captures one of Khayyam’s most haunting images: the potter shaping clay that was once human life. The opening line appears casual — a simple walk past a workshop —…














