Warren Shaw    |    Interdisciplinary artist

1.74 : 25.01.12

 

Oh how the mighty fly. See her here, we are new. Semblance of beauty. A new born day. The deer’s eye glistens as the sun rises and follows their gaze to a new horizon. Bright and clear the jackals lay their heads in the now cool sands. Towers rise silently in the distance. The adamantium core shimmers and bends. Echoing man. The glass sand reflects all that they see and all that we drop. They hold it dear for lack of fear. Who knew they would wake again. So elegant. So near. From still forms to green glass. Purely avast. The shell of the towers shimmer. The deer know they will last. A monument to the thought of those we hold dear. Bastions against life’s old fears. Once again we walk between them. Our footsteps appear. This land was always ours. And we shall forever hold it near. The deer gaze onward. Hairline cracks and silver sand. The jackals rest. No more ashes shed at our best. This land is pure and we know all the ways. Do not fear. We now build from the ashes of our golden shimmering tears.

 

Heartbeats and audio. Land on all fours. Head down. Listen. Bring it all near. Our lives are remembered. Ashes and fears. A land of glass drifts and silver dunes. A path of virtuous ruin. Burns our ears. Against the door we hide the armour. It was not ours to wear for so long. Clouds break on spires. Find all has moved and nothing has changed. Its arrangement is clear. Among those who are with us. I see a very different fear. For I find all that we have saved is for you my dear. Travel with me. Bring your tears. Mine are golden and I always. Hold them. Near.

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