How does a sculptor,
his eyes on the granite,
know a lion’s inside?
And when does the painter,
with her anvil and canvas,
know there an oak tree resides?
Before an image can blossom
the artist looks on the inside,
for it’s there the images hide.
But knowing they’re there
doesn’t change the abstract,
to actualize they must interact.
And the more walking about
the inside of the cave,
familiarity replaces our doubt;
as familiarity reigns,
the darkness departs,
it disrobes it’s dark outer wear;
there are degrees to the light
while the darkness recedes
and what’s hidden is finally freed.
The key to our being,
is finding the dream in our dreams,
and once found and acknowledged
the lion and tree are set free.