I stand naked in front of a mirror. My body fully exposed. The imperfections shine in the light. I turn away from the sight. For it is not the imperfections with in the mirror I seek out. It those unseen to the eye I search for. I must peel the naked flesh from my body, one layer at a time. Deconstructing my body down to its basic components. The layers of flesh I peel away are tossed unceremoniously to the floor. With no regard or care they are broken of no longer use to me.
I pile the pieces of my broken body up. A lump of clay on a potters wheel awaiting to be reshaped. A form less block of granite awaiting the chisel of a master craftsman to bring life to it. I am tired...but I must continue.
The chisel strikes, the sweat flows upon my brow. It is difficult work. For my work is delicate and precise, each line must be broken straight. A pattern emerging from the dust and chips. The days and months pass, The imperfections erased molded to a new shape. It speaks to me, yearning to be free of the prison that cages it.
A form quietly emerges for the remnants of the old, no longer broken down. Soon, very soon my reconstruction will be complete.
I pile the pieces of my broken body up. A lump of clay on a potters wheel awaiting to be reshaped. A form less block of granite awaiting the chisel of a master craftsman to bring life to it. I am tired...but I must continue.
The chisel strikes, the sweat flows upon my brow. It is difficult work. For my work is delicate and precise, each line must be broken straight. A pattern emerging from the dust and chips. The days and months pass, The imperfections erased molded to a new shape. It speaks to me, yearning to be free of the prison that cages it.
A form quietly emerges for the remnants of the old, no longer broken down. Soon, very soon my reconstruction will be complete.
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