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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Nature · #1149826
life is carved like a statue, sculptor : experience
Empty of form, free of mind
I come to life in the desert

The burning breeze
With frills of light
And sequins of dust
The fragrance of rust – my cloak

As rock I stand, among prickly shrubs
Tall and bent, in the desert

A battle was fought
Eons ago, with metal and life
Both now manure
To feed no plant, to color no flower
But to straddle the winds of time
And come coat my dry lips in a manner sublime

The rattler, all brown and gold
Slips down my back with a rat
In his throat, tail still sticking out of his mouth
Here in the heart of the desert

Inexorable rock pieced sharp and smooth
Strike my neutrality, Slash my soul
Tear and torture my decrepit corpse
They chisel and carve my future

Forming and filling, with a free mind
Alone I live, in the desert

I sit in the fire, all day long
I sleep in the frost each night
The rare moisture hardens to ice
Breaks me apart from within
Soon to be pursued by light




Did I say empty?
That was a mistake, I am
A toy of nature, Rock
- Just hard clay
So as for form, I am an
Impressionist

Now I stand, proud and grand
Might through solitude
And finally, along comes man
Trudging beside his puzzled camel
Vulnerable and strong at once
He shares my soul…

His muscles frame his infinite eyes
They flicker and smile and frown
He stares at me for a long time
And hungers for renown
Inspired, he paints
Hues and splashes of my life
He is proud and happy
To see the art of his strife
And he walks away……

I was destroyed and remade
Carved into beauty by pain
But nature isn’t satisfied
In rest I have never lain
And never will, for the zephyr
Continues and the skies live on
I eat myself, for I AM nature
I kill myself and am reborn

I AM THE STATUE
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