Our Father, Lord, when the world was without form and void did you

Our Father, Lord, when the world was without form and void did you roll the clay into shapes of life? Did you sing on that far distant Friday, when you fashioned the caterpillar, and the cobra? And Jesus, when the evening and the morning were the sixth day, and your new and naked brothers and sisters stood strong and full of hope, did you look down at your clay-smudged hands and say, "I must wash off the earth of my creativity and clean my palms till they are ready for my finest art-my dying"?