(no subject)
thanks tedhasfeelings
At the center of the world is a statue who holds a secret. Daily he kneels frozen into the sunlight with closed eyes and praying hands. He remains, bent at the knee, always. He remembers years past when children would play amongst his gigantic feet and women would climb into his hands seeking inspiration. He recalls how poets would write amongst his shadow, and artists would travel from far away for his inherent inspiration. He remembers being revered in his ultimate and mystery. He remembers singing the song of forever that was his.
He kneels at the edge of a small village, where he
At the center of the world is a statue who holds a secret. Daily he kneels frozen into the sunlight with closed eyes and praying hands. He remains, bent at the knee, always. He remembers years past when children would play amongst his gigantic feet and women would climb into his hands seeking inspiration. He recalls how poets would write amongst his shadow, and artists would travel from far away for his inherent inspiration. He remembers being revered in his ultimate and mystery. He remembers singing the song of forever that was his.
He kneels at the edge of a small village, where he