Poem: Illusion

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The sculptor looks at the block
with a loving critical eye
plans where to strike
where to sand it down
sharp points into curves

Mold an unforgiving stone
into a pleasing shape
lifelike with depth and shadow
and breathes existence
at the very last second.

Delicate lace, muscles and tendons
appear soft to one's vision
but reach out a hand and touch
to find not fabric or flesh
but the hard coldness underneath.

This illusion is complete.
Mastery of the life from lifelessness.
Marvel at the depth of skill
the rare vision of pure transformation
It takes your breath away.

 

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