Rubble and dust

Rubble and dust                                                                                
 
I misunderstood, years ago, when You
first brought out the chisel and hammer, 
 
imagining You would shape me
into a worthy likeness
 
and I welcomed the blows as best I might. 
Now I see, Your perfect aim 
 
is to reduce me to rubble and dust  
(a tedious task for the tall cold stone of me).
 
Rubble and dust – rubble which has no center
and dust with no grit or blood.
 
I should have understood it sooner –
the likeness of You is the absence of me.
 
O child, God is found, said Meher,
where you are not.