As haughty scrapes deface a fertile slate
with chisel marks precise yet shallow, done
in haste, relief becomes uncertain. One
dimension, regardless how ornate
will only scratch the surface, not the grain
beneath whose patterns bring a searching eye
new images designed to mystify,
revealing that which whispers in our brain.
When passion increases, the clamor grows
so loud it sometimes drowns out reason’s calm,
impatient strokes, while helping ease a qualm
can’t justify unneeded hammer blows.
Extracting truths residing in the stone
depends on seeing more than just our own.
6 comments:
Woe is the failed sculptor. I imagine an un-chiseled stone to be akin to the box containing Schrödinger’s cat. It has existing within every possible for at one time. Every possible reality exists. That is until we collapse the wave with perception...
Hey Bob,
Good Advice. We should always look beneath the surface. You never know what's lingering there!
Shirl
Hi Bob.. You're not reading Faith of The Fallen By Terry Goodkind by any chance??
Yes oz, that's the way I see it ;^).
Yo Shirl, scary yet exhilirating isn't it?
Hey Glenn, um no, is it science fiction? That's all I've been reading lately (besides poetry).
That would be a good description!
Hi Bob, No but its possibly the best fantasy going (the whole series that it belongs to). SF I love PK Dick and Orson Scott Card currently.
Cheers
Glenn
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