Glimpse at a flashing diamond
gripped by gold eccentric
but we must work other stone
crude, rough: solid basalt
forged four billion years ago
near the galactic cauldron of our sun
We orbit the mass
study every surface
to discern
the hint of sprouting soul within
we are so young
our hands, hammers, chisels and eyes
unschooled
The hammer swings
cycles repeat until
rain and ice and wind and waves
and our own chisel and mallet
hands callused and bleeding
pain in our fists
and in our eyes
strike off a wrong chip here
a right one there
elemental
chip too much here, too little there
perfection is at best an accident.
Finally old hands tap ever more gently,
old eyes work by touch
the artist spirals close
sees deep within the ever
adamantine basalt
diamond, pure cut.
