04-21-2018, 04:44 AM
A Study of Contrasts
The games I play are not for myself
for the sculptor can see life
beneath the block of marble.
He chips at the stone which never screams.
You must reshape yourself. I am not that man
who would wear a woman’s skin.
You may be in a pit, but I am an artist.
The games I play are not for myself
for the sculptor can see life
beneath the block of marble.
He chips at the stone which never screams.
You must reshape yourself. I am not that man
who would wear a woman’s skin.
You may be in a pit, but I am an artist.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson