Powerful whispers resonate in your heart. The heart pumps a steady rhythm, the sculptor’s beat of a chisel against stone. Ears throb as the sound vibrates steadily into your mind. The mind fills with light pouring through translucent veins of pure white marble. Eyes absorb the light until it fills your lungs with crisp air. The arms breath the air, traveling to the strong hands. Hands firmly grasp their tools and form the whispers with all the love and passion a single spirit can hold.
As each whisper was felt, each whisper was formed. Over time, your hands molded many whispers with the assistance of determination, integrity, love. Chipping off the countless hours, stood tall from marble dust, a timeless legacy.
I too, have felt these whispers.
As the whispers blossom with color through the end of my brush, I think of you. I know the whispers will not fail me. But I must move with the rhythm, light, air, and love. Singing a different song, the whispers guide me elsewhere. I do not see a legacy of marble. I hear a legacy of joy.
