Gazing at
the cold grey of its face
Whence no
recognition shines,
The
warmth lies within,
The
burning warmth of a life
That,
caressing, would be born
In my
hands.
Rock,
these are human hands
That
would shape you,
You who
have stood
Shapeless
on the shore of Time
For
years. Your hardness with this steel
Will I
pierce. Soon you will,
Awakening
beneath its thrill, repent,
Reveal
the truth of your face intent,
Rise from
your rock-sleep
And
stand.
Rock, in
your nerves you have felt
A shock.
The living current from my arm
You have
drunk. As from a storm
You
reeled, but are warm.
Rock, you
have been pierced
By this
steel, You have in your fierce, cold heart
Felt
death. But I have breathed on you
With my
breath and you live.
You,
coldest rock, will live
Drinking
life from the warmth of these hands.