“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Wednesday, October 4, 2017
Masonic
Not angelic, nor demonic,
it was likeness to life,
in a liberated angel
hiding her alabaster feathers
in columns of strata.
A marvelous made thing
it became, a mass to marvel,
an icon only outlined to invoke awe
from the stony faces, whose eyes hollow
pink granite and glisten in
a miraculous crust
that makes a life
out of our dust.
Photo By Smithsonian Institution from United States of Betty Richard, American sculptor B. 1916 [No restrictions], via Wikimedia Commons.
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