`

 

 

 

On a hand-hewn pedestal

imagination coalesced;

on milk-white face alight

eyes sparkle with a liquid flame.

 

Some build ivory towers,

these hands raw from driven labour,

on scratched cheeks a stricken eye

ransoms a sculpted orphan dream.

 

Across time and Middle Sea

another calloused hand chiselled;

laughter on a pine-white face

resurrected an ailing heart.

 

Some can only imagine

what others have without trying;

when vicarious journeys fail,

reality's block they assail.

 

 

 

 

 

`

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