The Memorial of Self

As each day is chipped from the rock of our existence, our physical life is reduced. Yet this daily sculpting serves to give us shape and purpose. Each blow creates an edge, that sharpens and defines our true selves.

For some, the process will be one of many small taps of the mallet, with carefully placed blows, delivered over a lifetime. For others a hasty or angry blow early on may damage the stone and thereby affect all the work that comes later.

Regardless of how we approach our life's work, or whether or not we have had much choice in how certain blows were delivered, when our lives have passed we will all leave behind these memorials large and small, delicate or ponderous, carefully crafted or cracked and haphazardly constructed.

One thing is certain. No matter where we are in our lives, or how the stone has been carved thus far, the end result can be improved when we become consciously aware of the work we have done -and still might do. It is never too late to step back and review our progress honestly, see where we struck false blows, and adjust our hands to avoid repeating the error. If the damage is great, or we are uncertain how to continue, then seek help from a master craftsman.

Decide what you want your life to have been about before it's over. Take an honest look at where you are. Plan a course that will help you be, who you were meant to be.

Reviews

[Humberto Abreu]

I have no experience writing poetry so I welcome your critique. In fact, I am not sure this can even be termed poetry. It is only a free flowing expression of my ideas buttressed by what words I could find to contain them. I invite you to comment.