Stone Carver

The sweet feel of the chisel tightly held in the hand, guiding its meanest parts artfully against the back drop of the granite, to be violently smashed with a hammer sending pieces of the stone flying in all directions. In time to a metered pace known only to the carver, the hammer falls again. With a explosion of sound the chips of granite set free from the contact of chisel, wistfully travel to their undetermined locations. Gracefully, almost providential, the hammer is raised again, to level not to high, as to force the chisel to bite to hard, but around the center of the head, with a slight tension of the body the hammer falls. Over and over, the rhythm undeniable, the carver works. Shadows of the outside, glide across the floor, still the hammer a constant, the chisel vicious, the carver divine.