Revelation

a poem

Precision chiseled blows disclose
the sculptor’s vision clear;
They chip away the rock like clay
And form and shape appear.

A mass of marble, cut and hewn,
becomes a sight to see:
A figure wondrous as the moon—
A mighty majesty.

From this cold slab, sweet life has grown,
Discovered, blow by blow.
Would my heart were made of stone
to be transfigured so.