There are figures existing in eyes.
They dart and dance at a chance to come alive.
Through a medium, they’re imprinted.
The past will survive.
Lifted for display.
A man here, a man there.
Filling an iris. Figures in their stares.
Shapes saved will coact with lines trained.
Conduits into conduits into a boundless main.
I can never repay what I have gained,
From a lost member without a name.
It took forever for me to feel her pale skin,
The armor she wore from all her past sins
Was too tight to her body thin.
All held in place by the plinth.
But the years have approached,
Bellow out the greys of the throat.
It drains to the abdomen.
To the cracking toes, and like most,
Timeless beauty will cave to mote.
Your residue like a gnat in the eye,
Forming figures to see secondhand light.
A chisel fractures the old stone, and forms new life.
A chisel fractures old stone, but forms new life.
It took forever for me to feel her pale skin,
The armor she wore from all her past sins
Was too tight to her body thin.
All held in place by the plinth.
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