Back when tigers still smoked, there lived an old glassblower, a craftsman of rare and wondrous skill. His hands bore the weight of generations, lines of toil marked his fingers, but within them lay the artistry of something greater than mere creation. Tonight, under the quiet glow of embers and the rhythm of his breath, he set forth to craft a masterpiece.
It was to be a vessel unlike any other. A jar, infused with magic so delicate, so profound, that even the gods themselves might pause to admire it. With every careful turn, every whisper of incantation, it took shape, a crystalline wonder, woven with purpose, awaiting its sacred duty.
The finest nectar in the world, it was for this alone that the jar was meant. To cradle it, to preserve it, to serve something beyond itself. And in this, it would find fulfillment.
But destiny is a fragile thing.
When the glassblower, weary from his work, stepped away, another came forth, one who had not seen the jar for what it truly was. A helper, a man whose heart bore the weight not of wonder but of want. With deft fingers and a thoughtless hunger, he stole the jar, carrying it away into the dim light of his own existence.
And there, in the cluttered corner of his home, the jar was stripped of its purpose. No nectar was poured within its sacred walls, no reverence, no fulfillment, no joy. Instead, it was filled with screws, scraps, forgotten things. It was useful, yes. But usefulness is a hollow thing when divorced from truth.
And so the jar mourned.
For though it was not broken, it felt incomplete. Though it had been formed in perfection, it now lay sullied by misplaced hands. It was never meant for this.
Does not the soul fare much the same? Crafted with intent, meant for wonder, built to hold something far greater than the mundane, yet so often twisted from its path, led astray by hands that do not understand its worth. How many among us, meant for magnificence, instead find ourselves filled with lesser things?
But there is one truth the jar still held, it had not lost its magic. It had not lost the whisper of its destiny. And it was never too late.
For even misplaced wonders can find their way home again.
Are you ready to find you way back to your true purpose?