Saturday, March 8

to the mysterious one

Not long ago, a couple or weeks or so...
someone precious came back to life.
It had been years since the last contact.
So she said: ascending, birds, prayer, song - something moving upward.
She said this after I had used a chain saw to first cut the rough edges. The final image now rested in her palm.
She is a good lady, standing her own grounds and she helped me out without upsetting my own turf. So there you go, miracles are still possible.
As for the sculpture, it was due the other day. But somewhat later - I still will make it.
Cause this one is for the muse - and therefore I will take the proper time to do this without haste and all these enforcements of daily life that usually try to choke you into congested submission.

4 comments:

Zee said...

don't you dare to utter any syllable Lee

Lee said...

Oh my dear, dear friend and partner in this troubled time, far be it for me to utter the name...the name...
What were we talking about?

Zee said...

Muses can only work in anonymity, destroy that, they turn into sirens. No wonder Odysseus plugged his ears with bees-wax.

Lee said...

Mmm...delectable beeswax...