With careful strokes
the creator touched with magic wand,
first void,
then later dust and rocks and stones.
A shoot of thoughts is slowly raised,
above a layer of bleached bones,
joined by the hours turning into countless nights
to be the final form with juice of life
flowing trough its veins.
The delivery was long and hard
filled with remorse and fear of quick abortion,
then at last the reward of falling into sleep
through clouds of sensation, expectations, satisfaction.
Today no sound is heard at dawn.
while white spirit evaporates
from microscopic drops on fresh and oily skin.
This is the moment
for the new-born,
the object of affection and attention,
finally to begin the long awaited dream
the purpose and the meaning of existence,
wherein the loving strokes of its creator
will continue ceaselessly.
Set off by this vibrant craving
inside the cupboard, in the hall,
the new frame wakes and waits in pride,
with emerging self awareness,
polished, eager, dark and shining
expecting fulfillment like a vacant coffin.
