A unicorn dances across the grass,
Vanishes into the trees.
I watch with the eyes of Cranach,
Anatomizing.
Hunched on the steps of the Schloss
I gaze down into the fountains’ web.
To craft a work of beauty-
That is all.
To command the self
Into sounds and structures,
Hallowed in the making,
And harrow the soul
In a joyous instant.
Distance, be my friend, my intelligence.
Fear you? No.
I can walk around you
And make you my own,
At home in between,
With nowhere else to go.
In the end I love only you.
Spider in a light-web,
I sense the tremblings,
The coming songs,
And time is the prey.
What comes to the sculptor’s hands
Is the shape of his death.
Nothing has to happen
To disturb the still.
Let the day lie there,
A casual stone
Weathered into magic.
This work on yourself,
Unending,
It tests you to breaking,
Yet always gives you space
To catch your breath.
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