Monday, August 28, 2006

stone mason

photo: Ely cathedral

stone mason

The tapping stopped centuries ago.
Relentless calloused hands,
focussed eye and creator’s breath,
ceased their evolution.
Sharp tooled progress,
its measured debris long since swept away
by time’s persistent fingers,
leaves crafted witness.
Someone’s son penetrated these stone canvasses
with father’s sweated skill and an eye upon holy purpose.
Hands too hard for music’s gentility
purposed their learned dexterity
a courtesy addressed to dressing stone.
Younger fingers shadowed the inching revelation,
played with chalky facsimiles
and dreamed.
Sometime the baton passed,
sometime son became father;
fresher blood and blister
fondled stoney monument.
For this carved epitaph
only decay carries on creation,
only admiring fingers soften the edge,
only time tells.


Cami said...

Even if a stone mason isn't remembered, his work is; I can't think of a better posterity. Beautiful telling.

Francine said...

Keith ... the majestic cathedrals of Europe give testimony to the artists' hands in their own unique ways. They are truely majestic. Your words add to the depth of others' painstaking skills in praises lifted up to the skies.