Men born with humility
instead of a face
their fingers reach out across the ages
to craft miracles,
the slow song of human ingenuity.
In the quiet corridors of oblivion
they chisel, they weave, they carve
daily
arriving at the truth
that no one can own
but belongs to everyone.
instead of a face
their fingers reach out across the ages
to craft miracles,
the slow song of human ingenuity.
In the quiet corridors of oblivion
they chisel, they weave, they carve
daily
arriving at the truth
that no one can own
but belongs to everyone.
1 comment:
Happy to have read this the first thing this morning.
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