The Stone Whisperer

He looks at a stone.
He scans for a sign; a contour ebbing.
He can barely discern the form entombed in it.
An effulgent radiance only to be seen as a dull glow
on the outside.

He places his palm on its cold exterior.
He searches for the pulse. Yes! A faint throb.
Of the shackled life inside, struggling for freedom.
Seething passions of a burning soul only to be felt as a tepid spot
on the outside.

He caresses it, feeling its scabby epidermis.
He places his ears on its breast, in anticipation.
He can hear a faint sob. A whisper too hard to read.
Tearful cries of gratitude and love to be heard as a faint whine
on the outside.

He picks up his chisel and hammer.
Bit by bit, he breaks open its cast.
Shard by shard, he dissolves the millions years of its captivity.
The creator becoming one with the creation, yet unnoticed
on the outside.

- Moosi