O Artist

She sits a-top the giant block of stone

And reads the words which he had thought alone,

Herself clean individual whose gaze

Comes from her thought about a thought

Of what is real, her future’s days

Prepared from that which is to what she ought.

Behind her, up and over, sky high,

The giant thinker magnifies her “I”.

O Artist of glad earthly focused might,

I thank you for your vision hard and bright!

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