You have the chisel in hand
And the master sculpture
Chisel away the unnecessary
To sculpt a masterpiece
Heart shines
Through the beautiful facets

Drawing my hands through the soft, wet flesh of the Earth.
I know already
It will emerge no chalice.

Cowards will bother,
they will force what isn't there.
They will plead something from nothing.
They will praise their hands.

The Earth is something I repeat,
Dipping hand into water, pressing pedal tenderly.
I wipe my brow like a farmer, returning sweat to the land.

Why are things never enough?
I see the form in the form I'm given.

The Universe has a vision for me, of what I am to become and Life is the artist, the sculptor. Everyday it chips away parts in which I don't need. It refines me n smoothes my sharp edges, it carves into me intricate details which will grow to define me. Everyday a part of me dies, but only to be reborn as a newer more refined individual.  Every strike of the chisel hurts, but pain is required for growth so I embrace the pain I embrace the hurt cause ultimately it will help me grow. I'm not completed yet so the blows still come, I'm an unfinished work of art. Half a stone tablet and half a man.

I stand in a room full of people,
And want to shout your name,
But can't.
My throat frozen in a,
Two thousand year scream.

Sightless eyes, surveying,
Trying to catch that knowing
Wink, uncertain smile,
With no way of telling,
Whether it’s been seen.

Memories of times gone by,
Caught between whispers,
And a silent scream,
From a silent tongue,

Frozen in alabaster.

© Nick Strong 2014