By Arcadian on
Wednesday, August 18, 2004
Friday, July 30, 2004
Plight of the Sculptor
You say: the work is now finished.
There is a cold chisel on the work bench
with shards of curved marble ; lotus petals that float
in a still pond and glisten in the sun
for that early morning communion that sustains
the soul , animates with gusto the final touches
my hands give form , shape to a youthful marble complexion.
Yes, there are hints of Praxiteles and Lyssipus;
years of hard learned insights and refinement of technique that bear fruit;
soften hearts that gaze, reflect on works inside my studio.
But the work is never complete, vapours of my
efforts still linger and clutch at my spirit,
they want more and more of myself, to be imbued into my art.
Not a second thought , I escape to my garden
to prepare the soil , dig, remove overgrown weeds;
dead foliage from last seasons vegetables.
I water , nourish the soil and plant seeds
to keep busy and wait for my soul to reconnect
for the new seasons growth and nourishment.
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