Fini?

F'ini? The sculpture is almost done The shapes becoming clear But like all art it might be done Tomorrow or next year. The hammer strikes the chisel And the chips fall to the ground When the point's gone from that chisel Then another must be found. The artist’s dream, reality Cut from a block of stone But, can be a sad reality If cold feeling’s all he's known. It’s been with him night and day Centered in his living-room Worked on in the light of day And in the late night gloom. It's kept his mind from breaking Like those splintered shards that fall But not kept his heart from breaking It's kept him alive, that's all. Will this one be the last one That he will ever do? When he completes this one Will that finish his life too? But that hard piece of stone Can bring a warm feeling to the soul If the sculptor uses that stone Just to touch a heart, his goal. © Del “Abe” Jones 07-07-1984