Wiping the dust from his face, the Sculptor smiled at his marvelous marble creation. His face searching the creation for it’s story. He pondered the bleached figure, examining the smallest details, noting the blemishes, but more importantly the lack of blemishes.
The young man in marble was reaching skyward toward an unseen wonder. The colorless boy full of awe, stretching his imagination, growing. The boy’s face innocent, young, clear.
Picking up his chisel, the Sculptor began to chip away at the cheery resolve of the boy. The boy’s brow began to crease, and his eyes to sink, and his cheeks to more stark, his chin a little bolder. The boy now a man, the Sculptor set his chisel down.
The man reached skyward toward an unseen objective. His boyish face still hopeful and wondering. His brow creased slightly, though, as he strived for a goal yet unreached. His eyes fixed with purpose. His gaze unwavering, his outstretched arm untiring.
Raising his chisel, the Sculptor struck, swiftly and certainly, deepening sorrow into the man’s eyes. He carved away the wonder and replaced it knowing; he shaved the hope from the man’s face, leaving a bare understanding. The boy now grown to a man, the Sculptor rested his chisel.
The man, beaten, his bleached face still raised, but he was searching as if uncertain. His eyes, showed pain, and his expression was graver. His body, had hunched a little, recoiling from reality’s harshnesses. The man’s outreached arm endured.
The Sculptor peered at the man with puzzlement. He lifted his chisel, and withered the man’s body, aging him beyond recognition, wrinkling his face, sagging his skin, curling his posture, resigning him.
The man, now experienced, had a rougher finish. Wary now; one step ahead of cruelty, yet his arms stayed outstretched, and his eyes fixed upward. Knowing what he knew, understanding what he now understood, he should crumble, yet the man had the heart of the boy he once was. His imagination continued, his hope prevailed, and his arm was stretched out, remained waiting.
The Sculptor set his tools down, finished. He left the man in the marble to rest.