Statue in the Garden

Oh, dread! I'm turning to stone.
Frozen in place from the outside in,
but passion still burns in my heart
Cold stone on the outside, molten hot at the core...

You can see the expression on my face
Is one of distress, longing and hope.
My outstretched arm reaches up and out...
My begging hand revealed.
My humble heart not asking for much...
My feet frozen one in front of the other,
Ready, always ready to take the next step and move on.

But here I stand forever still with the birds perching around me,
In the center of the garden, ever looking up and reaching toward the morning sun...
A stone figure to all eyes that see, a warm resting place for the heart
If the heart is troubled by wrongful heat,
rest it here and move on before you turn to stone too.

Cold stone on the outside but still hot lava at the core...
Frozen from the outside in, this is the curse.
Other statues are dead inside, other lava flows and bubbles,
I am stone but oh how the passion still burns in my heart,
Hot as lava my heart burns, but no one will know,
For I am frozen from the outside in and cannot tell.
For anyone with eyes and ears, I am just a statue.
Just a curious decoration in the garden, reaching toward the morning sun.