Sunday, October 24, 2010

Spiral Drawing ~























Spiral Drawing ~

Ping ping, the chisel hits
the stone, ringing something like
a flavor in my thought,
of the hickory flames, and the deep blue sky,
a sentinel crow
croaking to itself,
sun and shadow on my skin.

The rock chips fly, white dust
falls on the ground. I'm following
the round of a spiral's curve,
cutting down
through substance older
than my kind,
well past the middle point in time.

Death, and birth, and all extremes
are distant, like a bell -
clangorous when close, melodic at a mile.
Beyond all hope now I am loved
as much as I desire, have glimpsed complete
the beauties of my dream,
and even touched them with my hand.

Art is called to show
all things; to turn a stone into a phonograph,
as though it mattered
deeply, in ten thousand years,
that at the instant of the strike
I loved you more than all my words describe.
There is no reason otherwise.

3 comments:

KimieK said...

This captures that feeling of being filled with pure and absolute love from another so beautifully.

I can feel the warmth and hear the music of love in each word. I can almost feel it right along with you.

SBD said...

absolutely gorgeous

Happier said...

"Being filled with pure and absolute love from another" ... that's how I felt while we emailed, yet was so deeply ridiculed for it.