Like a canvas stretched tightly,

You bind me.

As a painter studies tints,

You peruse pain.

The leather straps mold my form

To shape my truer self.

The clink of metal, cold and cruel,

Only fuels the fire within.

You mold me now

With strokes, bold and broad.

Then razor sharp and focused.

Driving me onwards to the edge of nothingness,

And everything.

You know the crystal portal to my heart

Needs be rudely thrown ajar.

But once opened

Will ever yield to your touch.

I pray your handiwork be worthy,

And like every true artist,

You mark me as your work.

Complete.

~~~

Copyright 2003

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