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Sculptor

"A quarter of the marble chipped away"
-He said.

Hewn out by the Child with his toy.
The boy, playing in the darkness,
Thought it fun to chip away the pieces,
Break them off, then throw them behind.
But as the marble stone diminished,
The child grew, as children do.
And stili he toyed with the rock.
But, in time, he turned to look,
Not upon the small spot where he labored,
But upon the whole; and found
That it was Beautiful.
He cast aside his childish tool
And stood before the stone.
He gazed upon it, thoughtfully,
With awe and wonder that he had not
Stopped to look upon the whole before.
He saw it not as what it was,
But more as what it could be.
His playful chippings had not marred,
But rather seemed as paths which led into the rock;
Paths which, if followed,
Patterned, molded into unity,
Could enfold the marble
To reveal its natural beauty
In most perfect, purest form.
He, touched with passion to fulfill,
Began to carve into the rock,
But now, with Light upon his work.
And the Light revealed the artist-
No longer Child, but Man.

Beverly Bosworth

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