Once there was a man,

Who cut things out of stone.

He lived out in the countryside.

Yes, he lived all alone.

He wasn’t a very smart man.

But he didn’t have to be.

His Stone-work made him a living.

And he was very happy.



‘Til one day he went out

To a new mountain to cut stone.

And as he ventured on his way,

He found he wasn’t alone.

The locals talked of a spirit,

Who granted people their desires.

But he brushed this off as poppycock,

As just the work of liars.



He cut his stone expertly as always,

Polishing off the rough edges.

He took them back down the mountain pass,

To the man who’d pay his wages.

But as he walked he started to think

What his desires might be.

If visited by the spirit who

Would grant wishes happily.



He couldn’t think of very much,

Until it came into view,

The house of the man he took the stones to.

His name was Mr. Tsu.

Mr. Tsu had a mansion of immense size.

With tapestries, gardens, and koi ponds.

And all of this, made our stonecutter think,



“This is what I would respond!

I wish I wish I had a mansion like this!”



Then the air felt enchanted.

A voice whispered gleefully into his ear,

“Stonecutter, your wish is granted.”



He then went home, and what did he see?

A mansion completely full of rooms,

Overflowing with tapestries!

It was enough to make him swoon!

He marveled at it all

For about 15 minutes.

Then he got bored and looked out the window.

And he saw coming into the city limits,

A prince of great rapport and might,

Being carried in on a throne.

That prince had servants surrounding him,

And The Stonecutter felt alone.



“He even has someone carrying an umbrella!”

Said the Stonecutter jealously,

“To block this wretched summer sun!

What a joy that’d be!

I wish I wish, I was a prince!”



Then the air felt enchanted.

A voice whispered gleefully into his ear,

“Stonecutter, Your wish is granted.”



The Stonecutter sat, on a carried throne,

His every need tended to.

This didn’t last very long, however.

It was hotter than he knew.

Even though it was nice,

having an umbrella over him.

The sun still made him sweat,

and continued to brown his skin.



He looked up in the sky at the blazing hot sun.

And he began to think:



“I can block the sun with an umbrella,
I can even have a drink.

But the sun is still more powerful than me!

And will one day, it make me retire.

Yet the sun still will glow brightly.

Shining every hour!

I wish I wish I was the sun!”



Then the air felt enchanted.

A voice whispered gleefully to him,

“Stonecutter, Your wish is granted!”



An instant later, He was the sun,

Burning his power into the ground.

Scorching crops in his might,

And burning up rivers and towns.



“At last! No one is mightier than me!

I finally am the best thing!”



Then a cloud blocked his rays,

And his anger began to sting.



“This simple cloud blocks out my brightness!

I thought nothing stood in my path!

No stupid cloud will stop my power!

There is no end to my wrath!

I wish I wish I was a cloud!”



Then the air felt enchanted.

A voice whispered gleefully to him,

“Stonecutter, Your wish is granted.”



A split second went by and he was a cloud,

And he drove down hard with rain.

He learned he could make hail in himself.

So he destroyed the fields of grain.



“No one is mightier now!”

He said, marveling in his might.

“I’m so powerful! I can move mountains!

Wait? That isn’t right.”



He rained down on a mountain, but it wouldn’t budge,

Rock-solid it stood in defiance.



“This mountain won’t move!

So I must be it!

It’s time to make that alliance!

I wish I wish I was the mountain!”



Then the air felt enchanted.

A voice whispered gleefully back to him.

“Stonecutter, Your wish is granted.”



He stood as the mountain, and he could not be moved.

The sun it could not scorch him.

The rain it could not wash him away,

Nothing could overtake him.

He relaxed and took in, all the power he had.

The solidness of stone was surely,

The best thing he’d ever have.



...



Then he listened carefully and heard a very faint sound.

‘Chink, Chink, Chink,’ went something familiar,

Then he looked down at the ground.



“A stonecutter!” He exclaimed,

Flabbergasted and amazed.

“He’s cutting me up! He’s destroying my base!

He is surely mightier than me!

Now I know what I HAVE to be!

I wish I wish I was a stonecutter!”



Then the air felt enchanted.

A voice whispered gleefully back to him.

“Stonecutter, Your wish is granted.”



And once again, he was a stonecutter.

And he never made a wish again.

His power was just perfect now.

At least, it was perfect for him.



And so the moral of this story,

Which we do not want to hide,

Is that The Grass isn’t always greener,

On the other side.



And if you’re a stonecutter, a businessman, a mom,

A cloud in the sky, A preacher, Or a singer of song,

You are exactly what God made you to be.

Try to be it happily.