A piece of wood or of modeling clay
sits carefully on top of a makeshift table.
A cheap thin plank on top of bricks .
Music plays outside the room.

Sitting with purpose and glee,
imagining a masterpiece.

“Ready it shall be
and it will bring love,
bring peace to a world that…
pierced by its mere existence,
and evil will die!”

Hands twist and turn.
A hard mass is peeled and cut.
With tools and sweat
it takes shape, with tears of joy
slipped from his eyes.
A sharp turn, the table drops.

A voice is heard behind the walls:
“My god, if this broke, I wouldn’t survive”

Thought and movement
preserved in minute details.
polished and neat
yet with enough imperfections
“I love…

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****”

“I’ve been calling and knocking for hours
what the **** are you doing in here?”
“Art! you wouldn’t understand.”
“You are still with that ****, there’s nothing there!!”
“Because there’s nothing in your heart”
“just let me get...”

Door closes, uncontrollable heartbeat
sound blurs, eyes strain, “I know,
I know its there, I know its there
i know. it. is. there.”