Eyes, Not Blind, Not Seeing

Though the gods would surely not despise
The offering, the prayer of one so simple,
Still I polish the marble, invoke the words
With proper gravity, like the athlete who trains
Each day, shapes his muscles as a work of art.

I am only an apprentice, the marble
Needs a finer hand than mine, the mallet, chisel
Held within the Sculptor’s hand
Slowly reveals the weighty secret, serpentine,
Taking form and shape, disclosed within
The veins, the inner core.  Still
Unfinished, incomplete, not yet
Washed clean of dust and clay.  I look for
Outline first in stars, then on Earth, within the
Human heart, the symphony found in
Body, the chaos of the beasts.
Bright eyes, not blind, not seeing…
Unblinking in the stone.


2 thoughts on “Eyes, Not Blind, Not Seeing

  1. Very Greco, Fred … very Phidian … both this and the next poem. Are you channeling?

    When I saw the image at the top, it reminded me of a view near Thessaloniki … maybe I imparted the Greek images.

    In any case, love where they took me.


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