The Corner



The gentle folds within the flower

of the lily, the gentle look of

the folds of the robes of the Pietà,

flower of a few days, or the stone

of centuries, as each comes first to

the eye, the living thing, the living idea,

birth that there may be rebirth,

where the will drives inspiration,

and rekindles it with perseverance,

a struggle for emergence,

where the flower beams as a beacon;

cloth of stone, where the ashes of old

inspiration do not bury the garden,

but sustain it, a vision ignited,

the folds of celestial light;

finding Mother and Son within

the marble, where they were unrevealed 

for millennia, sacred task a passion

for the finding, the mind driven, hands

without rest, with talents run deeper

and deeper, the folds of cloth of a

softness made for the eye, with a

luster like the lily, curve and fold

of memory and salvation, each in

its way the steady light of Heaven, as

empires rise and fall, and rise and fall again.


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