The Master

Today the master woke me from a sleep, well deserved and peaceful.  

“Opportunity is slipping by,” said he, “with each tick of the clock.”

I cleansed, dressed, and groomed; my meal did not make me full.

“Quickly to the shop,” demanded the master, “It’s time to shape rock.”

A lump of material in hand, the master insists I give it meaning.

Upon the shelves sit forms and figures, successes and failures bygone,

My present task a thing new, a challenge perhaps beyond my doing.

“A skill tried, a talent gained. a basic step to progress won.”

Exhaustion, tedium, excitements, distractions beset, entice, and mount.

Perchance it is enough, I consider, this small creation mostly fashioned.

Yet the master drives me, “Halfway, partway does not, can not count.”

“The best, the most, must be given for effort as worthy to be deemed.”

 

The piece now complete, but not in harmony with my plan designed.

“Oh, it is well.  You gave the day your full measure, the best was done.”

Experience past employed, knowledge and skill new is obtained.

“You know now what you lack; lasting failures there need be none.”

At end of day, on my knees thanks, glory and honor given to my King

Firm is my commitment, deep and solid is my resolve for the morrow.

I, I am the master answerable for the effort and desire that I bring.

My own reason essential, my will vital; As master, those I cannot borrow.