The sublime of tedium


As you begin, only nothing

Into a pillar of something,

But bit by bit, oh everyday,

You are to steal the dust away


Here, less and less means more and more,

Lighter stone means heavier heart,

As you dig out the purest core

What is broken leads to the start,


There is beauty in destruction

Which is sublimed by your action;

A carver’s work is peculiar


For the greatest pieces of art

Are made from bits you take apart

As if the truth made you liar.


Not entirely sure I’m completely satisfied with this poem, it still feel like rough piece of stone. I may have to carve it some more yet.

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