I imagine I was born a slab of marble, and like Leonardo da Vinci, I merely needed to carve away anything that was not Dave. I chiseled away meanness, disrespect, and irresponsibility. Lopped off greed and impatience. I shaved off pessimism, but not all of it; I need a little yin for the yang of optimism. I chiseled away fear, but I got too reckless and had to get some plaster and glue it back on, not all of it, but some, since I want to have fear, but not be a coward. I tried to cut out my sense of duty, but it keeps growing back. Strange that marble can do this. I polished the adventurous and frugal parts of me. The logical part of me persists, but I keep looking for my spirituality. Perhaps it was lost when I was hit by that lightning bolt. The traveler still remains but is slowly eroding away. I’ve made many changes to my design over the years, and now, my sculpture is imperfect. It’s wearing down from years of wear and tear; it has patches everywhere where I’ve removed slabs of marble and then changed my mind and plastered them back on. And in the end, I don’t look much different than when I started out. Just wrinkled, aged, and barely held together after a lifetime of playing at life.
