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.