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Rodin – Claudel
He carves a stone body; each chip removes,
reduces until the whole begins to succumb.
The split in the marble is a slit deep in the grain,
it bleeds crystals for his folly, fighting against him.
His chisel is not a weapon; it does not maim or kill,
it is a tool to improve what can be understood,
it yields to the force of his delicate hand gently.
The female figure becomes a thing of love
justifying its long term existence as art,
beyond our stupid waste, beyond selfishness.
He penetrates as they communion together.
Vincent Berquez poetry
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