The lonely statue sits alone
In a cave of his own making
Quietly chipping away
To polish his own being.

What if he is beautiful?
What if his work leaves him marred?
It’s too dark to determine
But he has hope all the same.

His mind sits upon a blade
Indecision is deadly
But he doesn’t yet realize
His only threat is himself.

When a breeze wafts through the cave
He hears a sweet melody
And looks up for the first time
Halting his obsessive work.

His intrigue leads him forward
In pursuit of those sweet sounds
Suddenly, his lifeless eyes
See an unfamiliar light.

Radiance beams down on him
As he leaves his lonely cave
To find the sweet melody
And to absorb more of it.

But they are all around him
Blocking the way to the noise
And he doesn’t yet realize
They are all just curious.

But then he finally sees
That they are all just like him
Statues of their own making
And a new thought dawns on him.

The melody is from them
They are its tone, its tempo
Together they compose it
And he is forever changed.

He now sees it all, the truth
That each of the statues are
A little bit beautiful
But a little bit marred, too.

At last, he looks at himself
And sees that he is no different
An abomination of
His wonderful self.