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| It was just a glimpse �
of stone wings, cold, still feathers carved imperfectly and numb with weight. Do they ache to flex and beat the heavy silence in a fury of wild sound and fluid motion unrepressed by form at last? It was just a thought � of that stone gaze, fixed forever, sightless reverie, unbound fantasies of flight denied by abject artist and the mourning of another life curtailed then lost in fading names on tomb and sacred promise. It was just a sense � of you so close and yet still, untouchable, opaque evening�s air brushed our ashen cheeks, then rose while we cannot. Can summer find a way through stone, to open hearts of flight unfound? |
| *image: Luis Royo? |