Just an old chunk of wood

At first I see nothing beyond the familiar form.

The "me" I have become over the years.

The hardened block of who I am.

Recently though, life has come at me like an axe.
The first swing sliced cleanly through the branches of who I believe I am. It is now busy lopping away the bark covering the persona I have unknowingly created.

This slashing is painful to the extreme.
I wonder if can survive this much chiseling and gouging. It seems there may be nothing recognizable left.

I study my reflection.

It's still me that stares back, yet not me.

Hmm, something  new there, just behind the eyes.

Though still raw and rough hewn to behold,

it's evident.  A transformation is taking place.

An epiphany surfaces,
I am being sculpted.

A craftsman has eyed this timber it seems.
Considered it's natural shape and bend.
Determined the best means to free the heart within.
Artistic license is being taken.

This artist will shape me as he sees fit,
skillfully carving me into something useful.
My true grain is slowly beginning to show.

I am more than a little surprised.

The color is deeper and richer than I thought likely.
Much more real this "new" me.

I know this transformation is nowhere near complete.
So much more work to be done.
I can't imagine what the sanding process will entail.
When finished,  I cannot fathom who I will be,
or what I will look like.

Though still painful to endure,
I think I've found the key.

To abide this refinement,

I cannot not fight against my sculptor's hand.
I must yield to his touch. Trust the skill of his knife.
I will wait patiently..

and let the chips fall where they may..