You push yourself over the edge,
but my dear child,
what did you hope would happen?
the world isn't square, but it sure isn't
round either.
the blind-folded lady is hardly blind-folded.
her scales are tipped over;
the mighty sword smitten.
child, let it go.
Let stone and marble remain so,
let your green envy go.
your Sisyphean labour
is all in vain.
-
1 comment:
red brush strokes;
forceful hand movements;
unyielding artist's hand,
strong against the
white
blank
empty
broken
unframed
used and
whitewashed
fraying
tearing
bursting at the seams
canvas.
how clear, and plain
it is to him now.
this exhibition
is now made private.
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