A Different Plan

A different plan.
An architect at work.
The stones my heart.
The plan I thought
A cathedral, or if not
At least a church,
A wall, a fountain.
Something to use;
And accent my granite and marble.
These painful polishes
I would endure
To shine my stones
And find their character.
Discover their inner beauty
Find traces of gold and jade and silver.
Perhaps a statue:
Like Michelangelo,
Finding the beautiful sculpture
Hidden in the rock.

But now in part I see.
A different plan.
An impossible plan,
To melt the stones,
And altogether make,
Not a structure, yet a holder of life.
Not a statue, yet a thing of wonder and beauty.
Not a wall, yet something functional
Beyond my wildest dreams and great imaginings
Of my self,
The master architect forms
In His able hands
A heart of flesh.