Ascension. The jewel dwelling inside the mocking clay in the sculptor’s abattoir, promising untold joy if he’d pursue to let it out. The only condition is persistence and shadows fluttering upon walls at ungodly hours paying religious penitence to the request. To save what is held within or save self, solicitation or solace? The hammer thaws chunks of character undefined. Sweat beads pattern appliquéd cheeks and sleep upon his eternally furrowed brow. Perspiration maligned imitation of the real dreams spiralling around the children’s bedroom just next door. Ships sail across curly hair and fairies dance upon earlobes, they know no better. Father does not dare to wake them up. Shalom.
Written By Nathaniel Rochester