Blank Slate

With graphite laden chisel in hand
I approach
With fear and reluctance
The granite colored notebook
I face
My greatest fear
The blankness of the page
I begin
Slowly I carve
The starkness
The visage of
Statuesque poetry
Without meter
Surcease of rhyme
Creased with the bloody sweat
That pours from my soul
Do you see it there?
The face from my dreams
The dreams from my world
Taking form and function
Naked for the world to see

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