chisel

In the streets of a land closely resembled to ours
lives a creature who creates art through the rock
he chisels it every day, just like the ones of his peers and before them
he doesn't ask questions
like who or as or why
he just chisels and chisels til his hands get numb
he doesn't know what art is, or that it even exists
but there he goes, working away at something unknown and at peace
his wife she lives with him in the rock,
she builds him new ways to chisel the rock
his friends stop by for some water and meat
and are mesmerized by what he has completed
he teaches them the craft
how to chisel the rock and the way it's meant to be for a Neanderthal law
he works mighty fast and his friends stay in the rock over night
it's brilliance and life all in a wife's pick and an artists presence
would anyone see this
besides his friends and wife
that's why he must teach them
to make craft from a dime on the head of the sunset lounge, behold
it's scripture he calls it, but he doesn't really know
his friends call them shapes, something they learned from a decade ago
the first real language to communicate from, in the lands of depth and rock
the friends  go hunt, it's in their nature to do so
they bring back food
as the artist chisel the words in his mind, what he sees in his dreams, what they speak of
the wife is plentiful, making chisels for her man
he just fixes the form as best as he can
then more friends appear and they begin chiseling
unbeknownst they know, they have created an alphabet
they bop each others heads together, the pain makes them laugh
these neanderthal people have created a mass of information,
an ancient holodex
of the words we use today
bet you remember them now.

when you speak the truth
you will always get found.