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crafting the wind in marble
casting the breeze in stone
catching a zephyr in the moment
sculpting transience alone

raw and rough the rock begins
the sculpture starts undifferentiated
unworked, unmarked, uncut, simply
rock. and a blueprint in his head

and a chisel in his hand. struck
chips fly and chunks of white
veined with grey and green and
hues and streaks fall to the floor

delicate detritus litters the workshop
floor. the figure emerges slowly
rough at first, but lines begin to
take shape. limbs begin to

appear. revealed, created or found?
the stone begins to breathe. the shape
starts to shake, to live, movement
in the corner of his eye

he sleeps in the studio. constantly
aware of the eyes he watched arise
float to the surface of the stone, drawn
forth by the paintbrush chisel.

marbled whorls of color in his cheeks
life leeched into silent stone with quietus
just out of reach. peace
is the cessation of obsession

oblivion is the end result of creation
oblivious, he keeps on sculpting a son