Day Three Hundred Twenty-Six
The Sculpted

Even the most
beautiful stone
can be covered up and dirtied
by life’s weathering process.

All it takes
is just one person
to see the life and beauty
that lies beneath.

I am that stone,
and the Spirit of Love
is my
sculptor.

It breaks me open
with its mighty
chisel
and hammer,

Revealing
purity
beneath
the grime.

Slowly it chips away,
at roughness
that no longer
serves me.

Then,
with sandpaper,
the polishing
begins.