Before the birds and the bees the sun and the moon
without stars in the sky nor the land nor the dune
Not a sea not a plant not a tree not an ant
there was not a wildebeest nor an elephant
Just one small room
was the Craftsman's dark tomb
He toiled unstoppably without night nor day
in the blackened room he was bound to stay
for eternity the Craftsman seemed doomed
to continuum to be stuck in the loom
Blindly toiling in the binding shadow
with black tools viciously hallow
hammers and nails mud clay ashen bricks
marble chisel mortar pestle tricks
Monotony sparked the craftsman's lost temper
the wall became canvas for angry distemper
His artistic equipment brushed the prison walls
hour upon hour O' mighty hammer falls
He hammered until it whittled away
his fists were red raw like the break of day
The Craftsman was caked in saddened rough sweat
dejection on brow heavy did get
The Craftsman let his head fall low
out of the wall did a light show
A peephole smaller than a rat's tail
was broken wide in the prison cell
Wondrously untamed the light spilled
rolling and soaking all was filled
With light's glory the Craftsman could not see
another blindness that harsh bright brought be
His tools and materials all were a beautiful gleam
the Craftsman pleasantly content with the scene
Slowly but surely the room was filled
and then his neck almost needed t'be gilled
Lacking a need and bound to drown
he singularly thought his problem profound
The Craftsman deftly picked up his tools
and set to building collective pools
To contain flowing light
he took all his might
and built wholly right
a fountain delight
Artistic wonders into his structure
of beast and nature all perfect sculpture
Of timber and clay of marble and grass
he worked until the fountain's completion at last
In the Craftsman's abode was the most beautiful fountain
which all of the light was collectively bound in
Little black Leeches began squeezing through
at first it was only one Leech or two
The Craftsman was able to squish them all out
but even he grew tired bout after bout
They began to stick to his precious creation
Leeches worthy of the vilest waste-bin
The evil pulled petals off of wooden flowers
and the nose off of many clay tigers sin powers
Duly distraught for days he sat
tormented watching his statue crumble flat
Under the weight he watched stone clueless
wondering who endeavored to do this
Disregarding he set to his one task
deep within his mind he firmly did ask
He built a statuette and endowed it with life
by breathily bestowing will to battle strong strife
Using only dirt that had flowed into home
he crafted brains limbs and torso and left them alone
The Craftsman thought and pulled out a rib
and crafted the partner the woman most glib
The Craftsman sat back and watched ambition grow
the seeds thrived and they the **
They fought and they loved they created and destroyed
they lived and they died but survived all the void
The combat with Leeches
embattled stony beaches
Watching the battle
he saw no major rattle
When the Craftsman realized he was needed no longer
he built a chair for himself and sat down to ponder
Years and years more was the Craftsman
stoically sitting watching his creations gain traction
They leaped and progressed
with clothes or undressed
Intervening no more
they handled their score
His beard grew longer and longer and his eyes drooped lower and lower
until finally the Craftsman's heart beat slower and slower
comatose he waited ever in slumber
for his creations to need him to save any blunder
Ever hoping it never was necessary
life flowed around purposefully predatory
He watched their lineage improve naturally and viciously
and off they went history to history
the future was as it will be just a mystery