Iceberg

The Iceberg

The sculptress walked twice round the huge piece of ice, weighing up
it's perspective.
she could see it's potential, she looked through the external block and
could see the form
within. The ice had been taken from a larger iceberg, it still formed
the contours of the
parent block, it had molded to their shape, it had formed, from their
ideals and conditions.
The sculptress took up her tools, and bravely began to chip away at
the iceberg, she
tried to form it into it's own shape that was something separate from
the parent block,
something individual. The iceberg was cold, she wanted to breathe some
warmth into it.
however, fire and ice, each has the power of destruction over the
other. She continued to
tap away at the ice, and gradually it began to take shape, it had been
rigid, she wanted to
give it the appearance of pliability, It was hard she wanted to create
the effect of softening
the edges, so that it appeared less abrasive and sharp. Above all it
was cold and she
wanted to create a look of warmth. Yet she came, with the passage of
time, to realize that
all these images that were forming were only slights of hand. They were
not character in
the ice, they were but illusions of a personality, where no personality
existed. She could
see prisms in the ice, but what is a prism?. It is but an illusion,
there is no colour in ice,
Only refracted light, light from an external source bouncing off it and
making it appear
animated. She gave him, her warmth, she gave him her light.
Finally the sculpture was complete, The artist was pleased with
herself. She walked
again, twice round her iceberg, and saw that, it was still a two
dimensional form, it, was
inanimate. She needed to breathe life into it.
She took her warm hands and put them to his face. It instantly began
to loose form
beneath her touch. She welcomed this. She saw a melting of the ice, as
movement, fluidity,
softness. Her warmth was making it pliable, gone would be the cold
rigidity of the ice.
Gone would be the iceberg.
She watched her statue melt around her. Too late, she realized, that
what is left when ice
has melted ..is....Nothing .. ..Nothing But a large, wet, pool of
water.
The sculptress is once again alone.

She took her decree absolute and dropped it into the puddle where her
husband had been.