For Mag 268:

The dinginess within
cannot hide the beauty
that lurks here, hidden
beneath the patina
of age and wanton neglect.

Haste hinders the
unveiling of poise,
of grace carved out of
ugly rock, of error
transmogrified* by
intense, pregnant intent,
into a towering edifice
of strained sinews and abs
chiseled to perfection.

This is no drowning
Narcissus sinking
into a  murky river
of swirling self indulgence;
this is David, bare and broken
saved by the master’s hand.

The image in the mirror is of Michaelangelo’s David, seemingly condemned to exist as a flawed marble damaged by hasty workmanship until Michaelangelo turned its very imperfections into the basis of a masterpiece.