The artist knows each vein within the marble,
gives life to the delicate smooth skin of an angel.

Each day at his hand she emerges more.
He saves her from the trappings of lifelessness,
rescues her from being engulfed, consumed by stone.

He speaks to her as though she has sung him to sleep for a thousand years
and the seraph looks down at him with loving eyes but sad.

He knows no sunlight now,
only toils toward her freedom.