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or quarried & moved
chipped & scraped
or polished & buffed
what we are
grows finely grooved
this the artist
first out-roughed
then returned with tinkling files
prodding sanding blowing breath
in our sheen he sees his smiles
while his little knives marked death
birth pain growth-confusion
finely edge the stony mass
often a wash of warm illusion
lets the sediment lift & pass
from this workshop who egresses?
few are finished! patience blesses
This replies to the two sonnets below (Jyostna's and Deemikay's).
2 comments:
"what we are
grows finely grooved"..so true David and beautiful words here..
I enjoyed reading your responsive sonnet.
I also like the picture of the green man.
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