My lover the sculptor in weary creation

My lover the sculptor in weary creation,
Abstracting the postures of stones and their stations,
Designing oft bodies unsuited in nature,
Chimeric constructions in future danger 
That hearken toward an internal cessation.

He toils in his labors of ceaseless duration
Dismayed and unnoticed, without a relation
Or patron whose willing to bargain his wager;
His vision remaining opaque in persuasion.

More monsters metallic that mime the purgation
Of every ideal he aspired to, mutation
In nightmares of decades that twisted the picture
With nothing to focus on but his denatured,
Lamented career of peregrination,
His vision remaining opaque in persuasion.