A shapeless mass of carbon is wrested — at great human cost — from deep within the planet. Surfacing, it is repeatedly cleaned and cut to the bone, polished and recut, until it is not recognizable for what it once was. In the end, what will remain will have form and weight, prismatic hues and clarity. And, if it outlives us, its whitened bones will startle from the desert floor to point the way to the future, reminding of us of our origins.
No wonder it takes so long to birth a poem!