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