Tuesday, November 10, 2026
Without a compass
The arrival is gentle,
yet the scale is staggering.
No star map
guides the initial drift,
nor does a compass
mark true north
upon the mist.
Meaning is invented
mid-stream,
stitching together a sense of purpose
from the hushed breathing
of the fog.
Friday, November 6, 2026
Art grants two lifetimes
The sculptor exchanges a mortal body
for an immortal anchor.
Every onlooker centuries later
is simply renting time from a ghost.
Creation is the violent physical labor
of trapping soul in stone.
Observation is the peaceful resurrection
of that exact same spirit.
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