Plowing the family fields one morning
He came upon a head-sized rock
With his great-great-grandfather's face
Carved by nature on it
However deeply it was worked on
As it rose up through the earth
Its gaze settling in his hands
He stood amazed at the accuracy
Of its resemblance to his own
So he kept it and carried it home
How could a face be impressed in stone
Without a sculptor's skill
He pondered day and night
And started seeing faces everywhere
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