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Set of cave genes If you could read... pluri freedoms of the dark light of ignorance teach understand that breathe under the Naturality Natural Nature is not necessary to have an understanding heart and store on their empty heads of knowing ancient rain where wisdom possess. If dance on every grain of chickpea for each foot plant what could a plant obey; foot, Plant, and Plantation...

Resulting in kingdoms on my animals, fungi, plants, and protists, media freedom as a seed to reach our evolutionary lack of ceased hopeness...

First  Ellipsis Angle loneliness"God felt Chained"

Chained down by dragging the last link of its multiple arcane freedom in which transfigured recent swings where he collapsed with the latter being of himself whose life lies lifeless alive but lost. The latter that child not to know and deprived of nascent freedom that will never be born and come knowledge in our genome of Independence.

When the caveman thought to be a complement to the world is enslaved by the mystery of lost in himself... The born and born, never dies, that's so naive and innocent... is still full unaware of their free will, rather it is he who must re-literate and be a living part of the ancestral genome Cavernario component. Oh Heavenly Lord of the steppes I look because more of you today without having lived what you lived, as he would have played with my gaze to succor and keep you had fallen into the fangs of an animal, or you had fallen on the glacier cliff where he has separated you from your Clan Cave.

Emancipation means to be always innocent, my blood runs through yours,
I read and understand any phenomenon of deprivation exist without you lack wisdom satiate if all your generations crushed by the ignorance of falling subject will be well, me and my being I take my precognitions as a tormented child's worst nightmare before about sleeping. Sixth Papal almost, almost kneel before the creation of memorizes creation. This prerogative Lord lives Bread’s God Minor remaining....of whose iconography will not leave this fifth fraternal dimension will not come, if not more will enter the latter end of absolute solitude... and shorter than the last thousand years of Neandertal.


Cavernary Political and Ellipsis:

On a day of gentle wind and tense rain proclaiming Clan joined, they all shouted running, the ground shook and the children slept in terror... the 10 infants who were talking about the Sign from above, but the nines they crossed his arms remaining to create solidarity roof that protects the man in your imagination...
The eighth child of the clan ran quickly into the arms of his mother and she imagined how far, how far would never come... uncharacteristically who came with his brother seventh had in their hands the word of entertainment of Being, to be a plaintiff political all of braiding them together with lines enabling the hermit may decide that creation is a mass of lines of certain fashions together, everything sings like the slightest cyclamen dew on the line pointy rough fallen fungus. All arms folded on the upper porch of the Vatican Macario in Franconia, saying that many who unite in their fevered requests large modern man ceased to be autonomous when it came out of their caves and charnel pit.

Ran all she enjoyed doing that almost without knowing whether or not they fall...
Ran because of every day the sun ahead of them a lesson for a man of the future...
They are running to be released the day of his birth chained to stars of light, to carry him to his mother and father, sneaking to his brothers.

Brother worn eleventh birth to her existence as another being evolved Eukaryotic: Surely those provided beings of cell membranes rhizomes reflected in higher liberty lives purged of ectoplasm walk without a discounted subsidiary. Shakespeare in Helsingor appeared immune to a blood brother to all that limits the Draconian feel in the pinnacles drawn 700 greened steeds. From the deepest swoon in the underworld subway Helsingor, follow the prevailing souls presided over by the great ear of the hard sandcastle, stressed hard Ghosts of Stratford upon Avon.

Freedom plague spits words of pancreatic poisoned exordium, spits verses of confusion disorders without permission, without solid bass sound without liquid sea that resists mad edges followed by solid sound...
But smaller stones give priority to conjugate final sentence and noble verses Guardian
to mission how important would Liberation:

Maybe it's a synonymy of Astral Solar...
It is not Solitude, is a free nation that has its own kind prosecutor's office for even when Euthanasia closes your eyes to the astral, will run the stones of the Sea of joy believing that neither you dare if there is no healthy grass to clarify the rainy day terror.


Reverse walk creeks aggravated birds feet, walking great playful ruse.
Reverse run my comrades preparing festivity meals with chandeliers and singing lay plenary., Singing Avenue pine port Firenze, Second run subtracting minutes and hours the minute is enough for me with your face in my arms to recognize your longevity anathema times oblique faces for lip-smacking hailstones Templars.

In 1297 in northern Italy nearby rural families migrate to chalky Venice, Perugia came the exiles walked to find their independence south of the Iberian Peninsula. They were so atoned as in the echoing flutes, harps, zithers, and harpsichords field temperate; They invited the blunting of intemperate monocordio.

Golden Chariot Carrenio

The golden carriage carrying them came without a single space rather than inheritances acquired goldsmiths of ancient noble and chaste solid shine. Carrenio; the coachman wore on his left arm bracelet thousand mobile travel without stopping to drink more water and to feed their horses. After revamping its gold pieces bartered by a slave who was getting Carrenio Christians fleeing the Romans. Well, they fled as far as the plains of great earthly squandered his memory and that end of the end should come.

How am away from my land more I learn it's back to her,
There is no ground for the first time, but that which is foreign
Carrenio of Perugia and sensed that ****** was Jewish ashes,
Luther King black paste of burnt forest,
Mandela and Biko Ogre garage from Victorian Empire,
Gandhi in his humility is always put behind the Sun
to figure out the small
Tagore trashed my heart caressing the entire universe uncorrupted
Hölderlin together in the cabin waiting for his mother at Zimmerman,
That my beloved Borker forest should shine gold teeth with black resin,
Theresa of Calcutta was eaten and swallowed all diseases lepers knowing good taste proverbial dessert psalm,
Jose Miguel Carrera was more than a trench, clay bullets in each of his temples where he received
To be doubly Lonco is to be halved, lacerated by lay his head on his land, not galloping on his back throngs of wit and hope out Nazareth trembles when an F-16 diluted ***** covering landless caravans Heritage continues to lead the people killed but the mosque wall has been Fe Erecta.
Helena plenipotentiary Kowalska at Vilnius, Faustina Divine Mercy Diadema
The agonizing deprivation of millions of people with cancer in every continent of private well-being analgesic, weighed down by increased pain, almost as strong as the Master Hammered Golgotha, so it was that Joshua has cancer always to slow it down on us. Benigno whether metastasis, malignant albeit benign finance.
The death of an innocent little angel devoured by the beast remains as a fluff hairless sardine in the jaws of a shark baron.
Khalil Gibran writes that with both hands to support the reviewer behind in Bicharri and bohemian Paris,

Salvador Allende Gossens was born since he was deceived by his parents who would heal politics, would rather dig their ancestors in their brains scattered in the currency in face seal or tail of.

Frei Montalva that today has to receive the Macro Augusto Heaven their arms, their sorrows, and regrets, although his worst military executioner.

Legion is an offshoot of liquid central gray material, which defers well done becoming but not defeated, it is the decree of the divine threshold space Living or ceases to live, that failure does not exist, it is the postponement of success - success.

The Genocide September 11 in New York was a ritual, who produced was a small wrath strength of the Rotary world, as the camshaft is upset in the history of trying to make more alphabet in schools where the flag hoisting and found scholars in West and East, so they can learn more than reading of both unlettered, lip and water to possess it to write with it. The worst disaster is read with the memory that will never happen... I write my greatest need with lipstick and my greatest need I write eagerly to participate. Yesterday I passed by a boutique and buy lipsticks that are closer to the language, written with the mouth and not the hand. !

Freedom, debauchery, libration, drawer, Bookstores..! Carrenio..: he said see I'm right! Raise and educate has a great synonymy with autonomy because the ancestors wrote everything that deprived them and made them fear, but do not have to eat the autumn gives me to dress the return of spring, bread orchid, and cineraria. Hence by that inner syllabic singing hunger sated that sought sheet to sheet rid of everything until the end of the book as the encounter between night and day without considering oblivious to anything or anyone on the track window swing wind, wind seeping.


It was old Zeus or Hera of Antique,
Cavern to house geometric polyphonic, angular seeds to create fashions kiss kissed everything that any vertical plane does not fit with the closed horizon
For hands and angels, Hebrews the inner soul of every carpenter and stonemason shrunk, wash their eyes and cheeks with songs of vibration and idyllic comfort,
Everything resembled and sounded Bethlehem 2.0 deities choirs sweeping grasslands,
The similarity of this clairvoyant child is born in a cave...
Rising motherly free Soliloquy Papini sitting to the right of ruminant cattle,
So archaic that to be born is not born in a clinic mega Cristus but hundreds of kilometers and hundreds who are born with the undergirding whispers and servitude being.
Where the multi gray impetuous born star is a healthy gauze story in the present tense... this angelic child grows by Miriam washes his feet in a belligerent abolished stone. His father must wash their hands on a stone which is where measured his ecclesiastical mystical stature, stone Madonna to heal his feet where he leaves to free himself, to free us... Marble gamete fémina vault, where he sleeps without knowing whether it is due, the ***** fell from the sky.
How wise is the Wise, it makes permissible for much more than two thousand years we stone quarry wheel and wheel, homily, and blessing to not wake at night to sleep startle middle and uphill.

Me of the referent of antiquity is not me of today is polished cobble stone,
Useful weapon quarry road there and backtrack to have blisters stone and soft thoughts under my pillow soft stone as a whole.

If you're ****** private living and have a free soul choosing coexist, then you are low in the cemetery on a tombstone of heresies.

Neolithic early 4500 after Hildegard von Bingen and his entourage and prowled full and channeled, swooning in her swoon with flowers in his hands and his followers planting forests on top of Stonehenge.

Carrenio says...: you see I'm right, we coexist, I die like the worst ****** cancer and then put a tombstone Stonehenge conspire in my honor black pain prayers of Salisbury. It blooms in vibrant red rubies that detonate in chromaticity and life. The stream itself is exceeded the aquatic plant Macarenia.

Call us and civilize us, outdated as far as my tired feet though I come not ashamed to see my new tracks.

Carrenio says...; see I'm right Joshua has traces of gold from other Caterpillar shod feet. Antique everything is prescribed according to their legacy today is Lent Pro that came before it was Lent vestige Pentecost came to be a nickname of the mystery of the passion in less than a rooster crows.

Beside it is the mystery of the disappointment of stubborn demon, which helps you all carry the cross, but not the entire load. Fire and Light at dawns where the splendor born...


Genome Freedom, even today every centimeter of my witness of each component, if the basic origin of the signs of the primitive world, is that we have lost the bark of the lexicon, which does not allow us to understand the meditations to ask for something, not You need to ask something. Today genome is requesting something because thousands of people who asked for millions of years, now it's time to cater to them. They were wrapped in cloth shroud of spiritual sacredness, today cemeteries mega dance their souls leave no sleepers both much grass on their heads not yet sullied by the puppet Azrael.


Impossible not to decorate the rocks forged empires that fall into the rubble, they bring 476 d. C., a new opening Middle age freedom of travel both in history thousands of years begins a new axis Golden Carrenio’s Chariot.

Carrenio Wagon

This great colossal ship Carrenio time is a timber that holds the sky, a beam that does not faint or distended thousands a. C, and the old age of King's large musings that were forgotten. It is astride ship millennium, their history of oppression has seen in the wheel, instrument wise rolling like a wheel before 5, 000 years ago, here  We fought and prostrated to distant lands millennium after millennium him away.

Golden Chariot is the structure that freedman us to enforce a new life on earth, even the Gods prided themselves move the stars to constellations called her noble Auriga sailing in full the Universes and Cartwheel Galaxy or cart Wheel. As if to say that when the Universe and its own mythology, were visited between them inch by inch by wherever they shine.

Carrenio mask and frame used had strength, temper, and tittle. When the first libertarian squall of antiquity came closer, Rome was already small and nobles populate what is a quote, Piccola. The executioner always frightened and starts out of his own wickedness. Markos Botsaris as did in Greece, and surrounding towns Messologhi remote, they were free more than tuned in massif Arankithos high wind. He was riding to Kanti once again with the golden rider Etrestles of Kalavrita. According to the Chronicle that came from distant millennia has envisioning promote its neighbor's heroic to free Messolonghi of ****** wars. All this I saw with his own eyes Carrenio, every thousand years styling with Etrestles, cleaned their nostrils so that new breed of horses to thrive,

Avignon, in the necropolis, witnessed as Azrael was cleaning his wings Jade antipopes, another story begins... even he seeks to candela who can read this story, and who can provide it from hand to hand cutting semicolons who disclosed.


Second  Ellipsis Angle  New Era:

Ara released the ropes throwing a big ship, History makes a man is at the center of the world. Revolutions, thinking, communication, and especially vindicate man in his right-libertarian. artists with their creations flowing all over the world, mutating classic Renaissance to abstract overlook. Family appearing welfare and needs. A ramble and so many broken laws. Mankind is distracted l film and theater artist of tradition. Art now has sound and movement, then social and political revolutions are industrial that unite everyone behind the pivot deployment of social classes.


Everything evolves until we get tired of doing so. It rests and then continues. This is modern reality, we wrote about the history of events on facts that have never been told. The world has tired all the Eras, but each pause time that has happened has been recharged, nothing finished if not started again. After so many wise lawyers, clergy plunged into great towers bound books. Is evident again can not read or understand. Our realities are missing valid without knowing I close and then open another door. human and civil rights, fair wages, so excessive autocracy monarchy. Freeman can walk along the paths, even if they were trenches.

Zephyr soft murmur which clutters in the Irises by Van Gogh, the painter is the biggest star trek, called with his feet images and colors that would make his own liberty to live naturally insane. And many others Brueghel "Triumph of Death" that roam the countryside, perhaps a medieval piece of Tarskovski; Andrei Rublev in futile painters decorating steps in the fontano chignon Androniko Monastery Moscow, extinct Rublev 70 years, Tarkovsky 54.

Early ellipsis - Campo dei Fiori in Rome to see die at the stake Giordano Bruno by order of the Holy Inquisition. The irruption of the Inquisition, but their feet are touching the flowers, the seasoned cassock continues to haunt the universe of Faith Dominica Trastevere, it is seen to lectures on how to be bold with the informers and the Whistle Blower dies without shade in spring, you resist the star on the asphalt on the magical island of holiness.

Carrenio says: Come I'm right, we can not read, because the brutality of the Cosmos is manure per ton weathered in the backyard of the aristocracy. I will continue with respect and crosed in Crete. Lila Kedrova means the fear of bunk bed tied to her bed and is free in foreign lands leg. Queen insular matriarchy, she lives more than any Greek Goddess, waiting for his Adonis, to fill out honors. Win an Oscar but lost to Zorba, he loses his house but won a Tony Awards. How many women teach us that to win you have to give everything to lose his brains, and thus count as the lost number remains to be retained. Zorba whines in her arms, she moans in the arms of her husband Zeus Steve, proof of a new era. Onyx for his tomb, plate of this great tragedy.

On the evening of December 14, 1964, attended the premiere. Soul of Carrenio was with them but was denied his attendance at the banquet, finally running out and watching the glasses lips and stoles spent his neck.

                                          
          ­                      Numbered Mysterious Death
                                                  Mané

If I have to feel floe on my feet and cold in my prayers will be the Dark Glory. What is slimming rays of the day, everything smelled of silence, maybe it was Kennedy, or better was The Mané.

Closure of my glory suffers the wind...
Flowers lying silence my soul alight,
Thick square displays the song of my voice...
When they speak Quadratils one to one order their
Spirituous voice.

And the spirit singing fiber of my heart told me:
Never you say I Exist ¡ not exist because they do not exist!
Only face daily the different reflection of your body
In front of yourself with another face and another body...

I want to talk with the thought
And this same subtract my little silhouette,
Lavishes wingless bird that flies only in their theology...
That is the duty and melt with my look,
Solid colors components
Crunching the altars of heaven retaining its pale warmth of anorexia.

Yellow Glory hair good event...
If you receive yellow lights, plus I do not sing my own game here in my empty veins,
Yellow my heart...
Yellow my heart
Yellow my collective heart.

They are run by large green and sunny meadows, children who had Mane in this major milestone in its last gasp. Now she is the mother of his children; it up and them in the last temptation of the mystery of death.

Carrenio keeps rolling, the brightness offered his Golden wagon to the ground. Gold grooves ago, and looking at where it realizes that it's landmass light mud. Since he felt whispers from the confines of time he had never felt as if you were finishing your journey or the world. It raining years and years and continues because nobody mends the mysterious death Numbered.

Heaven and Earth did not hold, the bottom fell precipitously pocket Lord and denied several times uncontained. She shivered in the World and the rooster crowed several times to never be heard or the Pentagon.

He is walking and knees bent,
we embraced by the golden chariot and oxen nor held
we bent us all lying on his knees,
up shoulders not hear from where came the bad grace of his departure,
numbered all the time of complaints of how then she would come,
It is unknown who would be but brought wine in his hand on the crispy mask
We ran from side to side and nothing was real

Everything seemed to sing in the chapel on a sad day,
But I hear loudly like Latin and watchfulness,
Those who know his mystery is no stranger to them
They all look but transgress the sin of silence.

Carrenio still absorbed in the hallway,
Angulo ellipsis she comes winged like a star burning tar,
A high speed to give us the new
No garden can deprive greet in speed visit
Dome comes, it comes on the eve of the new moon.

Numbered Widow mysterious,
Mané is a land of golden color and no celestial whoever wants in his cell,
A breath test, and feeding the Toffy and his henchmen
That sustaining more lively detail, there is no one that can not be targeted

It was modern, it was night, it was his torn life as an accomplice of his exile abandonment in his allegory of tender dismissal. Carrenio achieved so say goodbye to the beams of light that told him of the mysterious death Numbered. He sat on the roadside and drank some wine. Then dry with his handkerchief his neck, and have never wanted to experience such an event in a toast ever drunk.

Third Ellipsis Angle  of  New Era

Independence of Chile, it concerns Mapuche atingent case. Araucania pound, then 1818 central Chile. In Brief, Earth makes free an entire nation. His naive and primitive braves inhabitants emancipated themselves from all sides, they came to save a people who were just following where nobody can reach. Independence of the United States separates us for approximately 42 years, breaking up owners of nowhere. Industrial Abolitionist and South Slaver and Agraria. The biggest event that more than 640, 000 men and fallen activists planted safely from repression fields.

In Chile all rule resembled this secession in today's Araucano man prays for his fallen by almost more than 3 centuries in Chilean lands of Araucanía’s men. Lautaro genius and his supporters the heart of Pedro de Valdivia ate; Map ever made to your battle mapping Tucapel. "Initiation and final symbol occurred after 282 years of fierce war" and Mapuche land forever their independence from the Spanish Empire Captain-General important in foreign lands never subjected to foreign rule would eat.

The Machis and Loncos make supplications in native forests falling on them pollen on its back as if nothing out 10 times better...

To Libertas strengthen in the west is necessary to push the limits of the earth beneath his tongue and penance for the greedy entangled in the lines of bloodied sky, rebellions Chieftains death-defying all together at the edge of a cliff. 1769 The Pehuenches led by Lebian Cacique, joined the Mapuches razing Yumbel and Laja, the most peaceful Huilliches also joined mass alerting perhaps innocent people land blood-stained war and the Mackay Luchsinger.

No doubt portals military rebellion trigger blood, where they opened a tip and swords in the past. Here's reading concern is that the succession is timeless time, a sword without a sword, but on the tip of her blood is seen where there were herds and warriors crushed by their own footsteps. Here the phenomenon of freedom begins; Humanity runs treading his own footsteps, to save his family from a threat, but not strange forces that force you to use your defenses, because in the groves populate many helpless souls with his sword unused at the expense of being forced to use.

Freedom genome; It aims to reach where it has not come without looking back,
Chalices pour out is where the troubadours do not cuddle her close looks like time, singing while watching the changes are not of a new life


Heaven star,
Come to me,
I ask a sign to see them arrive,
Because I want to thus been dragged
Being together Eager to feel...
Those respites without being comforted
going to the mouth of the serpent.

About the Garden,
My home is to put my love,
He has to put the days imagining close...
To enjoy yourself is nonexistent...

Oh, my house tormenting me...!
Because in it I feel your smell
They are alone lights
Where I would wait for me to be in the dark...

In the coming future,
You will not see or hear my anger...
Perhaps my happiness nor peace praying
As the spear in the hands of the perpetrator.

You know a storm of whispers
I do sow your name in the wilderness,
It's because my judgments of hope
They mount up arable land deposited in my frenzy
Misled by a love which is my love.

But you never understand,
Because time has invaded my dwelling,
Invading my brain to give
It has invaded my choosing to love...

On the grass path,
Every time I move away from you,
I turn to see if you have not been...

Love came,
And I think that leaves us alone to avail ourselves
Ranging in our time...


But I can not resist his silence,
For my house want the noise of its action,
Why keys to the gates that serve my understanding.

Tramples my heart the fragmenting oddities into smaller pieces,
Your answer that call.

Tur love be like if I had created...
As if only you had appreciated your beautiful creation.

Do not destroy your work expresses in his mystery give life to your dreams!
Man aiming better earth, ask some of you to join your dreams...

! Your wife of this land does not procrastinate your misfortune,
I discover far peaceful landscapes like an echo in the spring,
As large and deep as your forgiveness for loving me more


It tells the Earth to the Sun in its perky tear benefactress of new opportunities as good and healthy smile rainbow on the back of Oviedo sheep valleys of freedom of Pietrelcina life.

To be continued…
Genoma Freedom , by Jose Luis Carreño Troncoso - Under Edition
Cam Arsenault Dec 2012
Oh, how I always wanted to live in an 8-bit world
Side-scrolling action
Duck hunts galore
As much currency as a first-world country
It’s hard not to love it
From Pokémon to Kid Icarus
The nostalgia nearly takes my breath away
I won’t let problems stack up like Tetris
I’m not being chased by ghosts crying,
“Wacka, wacka, wacka, wacka, wacka”
This isn’t a video game, it’s real life
When you die you don’t respawn like nothing ever happened
No, this is it. One life.
I’m placing blocks in Minecraft
Pwning n00bz in Call of Duty
Gaining headshots on Grunts like Master Chief
Gathering rings in Sonic the Hedgehog
Sneaking around like Ezio Auditore da Firenze
And delivering newspapers like Paperboy
While escaping the mysterious Slenderman
I’m living in this virtual world without danger
I don’t want to make it on these streets like Frogger
I don’t have big shoes to fill like the plumber or the blue blur
This ain’t no sandbox or first-person shooter, it’s reality
So, live it to the fullest, don’t rage quit
First full poem.
tangshunzi Aug 2014
Ci sono matrimoni ti adoro e poi ci sono i matrimoni ti adoro .drop-dead cose bellissime che sono così assolutamente bella .siete quasi a corto di parole.Questo è uno di quei matrimoni.Una serata italiana mozzafiato con una splendida attrice sposarla focoso produttore musicale sposo .il tutto circondato da familiari .amici e momento dopo momento di "Miss Havisham incontra Florence and the Machine " pretty ( SI ) .E 'il tipo di giornata che sarà quasi certamente passerà alla storia SMP e si può vedere tutto catturato beauitfully da Matthew Moore nel pieno galleria .

Condividi questa splendida galleria ColorsSettingsHistoric VenueStylesRomanticVintage

Da Sposa.Come attrice e sceneggiatrice dal commercio in Hollywood era destinato fin dall'inizio che il nostro matrimonio sarebbe stato una produzione.Invece del matrimonio norma mio marito ed io stavamo cercando di creare il set di un film che sarebbe davvero trasportare i nostri ospiti in un altro mondo .

Oltre al fatto che siamo entrambi persone molto artistici in generale .Zach ed io sono piuttosto contrario.ehm.voglio dire gratuito .Zach è più di un ragazzo jeans e t -shirt .E sono più di una Jimmy Choo e vintage sequined vestito da cocktail tipo di ragazza .Così.quando è arrivato il momento di sposarsi .volevamo trovare un modo per fondere i nostri due gusti : lui .casual e me.fantasia .Lui .rilassata e me .drammatico .

Entrambi abbiamo subito concordato un matrimonio di destinazione perché sapevamo che volevamo che il matrimonio sia intimo.E abbiamo voluto l'evento per essere più di una vacanza collettiva di una sorta di omaggio al nostro coupledom .E non posso dirti quello che una decisione perfetta che fu.Abbiamo optato per l'Italia .un piccolo paese vicino a Lucca chiamato Borgo a Mozzano dove avevo trascorso del tempo in un college di canto lirico .( . Te l'avevo detto che ero toity hoity ) Borgo a Mozzano è in Garfagna - i monti selvaggi e selvagge della Toscana .

Sono ossessionato con la grandiosità sbiadita si possono trovare in Italia - e la villa che abbiamo scelto per il matrimonio (Villa Catureglio ) incarna proprio questo - edera a crescere senza di pietra antichi .ulivi dappertutto .quella luce splendida che sembraesistere solo in Italia .Per noi .non c'è niente di più bello di patina e abbiamo voluto fare che l'attenzione estetica del matrimonio .

A tal fine .i colori del matrimonio sono



tirati direttamente dalla decolorazione della pietra dal salmone al grigio al blu al verde .C'è un intero caleidoscopio di colori solo nella pietra .Volevamo la decorazione di nozze per avere un tatto organico ad essa come se fosse parte della villa .
Il tema per il matrimonio è stata Miss Havisham incontra Florence and the Machine .La descrizione mi piace dare è il matrimonio dovrebbe apparire come se fosse istituito un centinaio di anni fa e poi solo dimenticato .Nel corso del secolo gli elementi ha assunto l'edera e muschio ha cominciato a crescere nel l'arredamento .l'età sbiadito la tovaglia .E ora il matrimonio è quasi una sensazione spettrale ad esso .Per me non c'è niente di più romantico della storia Havisham di un matrimonio congelato nel tempo .E mi piace l'accostamento di bellezza e decadenza .

Abbiamo ovviamente avuto un po ' di una sfida tirare fuori questa visione dall'altra parte del mondo .Inoltre .abbiamo voluto utilizzare uno stile più eclettico decorazione di solito si può affittare da fornitori di nozze ( in particolare in Italia .dove l'estetica matrimonio sembra essere per lo piu vestiti da sposa ' permette di trasformare la villa in un club di Miami ! ' ) .Così abbiamo dovuto ottenere creativo che è dove abbiamo avuto così tanto divertimento .Io e mia mamma .insieme con i nostri wedding planner .pettinate attraverso diverse Thrifts negozi a Firenze di raccolta ( ad un prezzo abbastanza ragionevole) antiquariato favolosi che abbiamo usato per decorare il tutto .Abbiamo trovato splendidi vecchi specchi che abbiamo appeso nella limonaia .Siamo andati in un vecchio magazzino di tessuto a Prato e aveva le tende fatte per la cappella e altrove.Abbiamo anche trovato il tessuto lì per fare la nostra bella pizzo tovaglia di tela !La sua incredibile come se siete disposti a caccia .si possono trovare cose incredibili ad una certa sconto .Pettinatura attraverso depositi di risparmio italiane potrebbe non essere il paradiso per tutti .ma per me e mia mamma è stata veramente !

Zach .ovviamente .a condizione che la musica .che era un misto di corrente di musica indie con musica dal 1920 per la cena per riflettere il nostro desiderio che il matrimonio si sentono sia d'epoca e indie .Abbiamo finito per avere 55 dei nostri amici più cari e familiari .e non avrebbe potuto essere più perfetto .Abbiamo tutti trascorso alcuni giorni insieme prima del matrimonio .

Il matrimonio è iniziato nella cappella privata in loco : una splendida .piccola cappella di pietra abbiamo trasformato in una scatola gioiello etereo .Abbiamo comprato un po ' di velluto stupendo e tessuto di seta floreale da un magazzino a Prato .che abbiamo trasformato in tende romantiche per vestire le finestre .La cappella era piena di Kartell Louis Ghost in armonia con l'atmosfera un po ' spettrale del matrimonio .

Le damigelle d'onore camminato lungo la navata nella splendida marina .1930 ispirato abiti da David Meister come il nostro indie amico musicista rock ( mio cugino ) ci serenata con le versioni acustiche delle nostre canzoni preferite ( "C'è l'Amore " di Firenzee la macchina ." primo giorno della nostra vita " di Bright Eyes .ecc ) e 'stato così incredibilmente speciale per avere mio cugino cantare per noi .

** indossato un abito di Reem Acra ( Olivia ) che scorre in avorio con maniche argento cappuccio bordato .Mia mamma e mia sorella e ** preso a Kleinfeld in un trunk show .Il look era molto presto Grey Gardens glamour del 1930 .Pensate Poco Edie quando era giovane e bella e piena di promesse .O signorina Havisham in gioventù .

Una volta sposati.ci siamo spostati nel cortile della villa per cocktail e antipasti .Qui abbiamo avuto una splendida sorpresa in programma per i nostri ospiti .In lontananza .hanno iniziato a sentire una band che suona celebrativo della musica tradizionale italiana .La musica gradualmente si avvicinava sempre di più fino a quando attraverso l'ingresso alberato oliva villa apparve una marching band di 30 elementi ( concerto bandistico ) !Tradizionalmente .in matrimoni italiani .la banda del paese suona dopo la cerimonia e quindi abbiamo avuto la band Lucca locale non solo per noi !Sono un gruppo favoloso composto da tutti.da 8 anni a 80 anni di età che suonano musica tradizionale popolare italiana con una perfetta imperfezione .

Il look del momento dell'aperitivo era stupendo !Le bevande erano servite nella Limonaia (dove sono memorizzati i limoni durante l'inverno ) .La limonaia è onestamente da morire - è così Giardini di Miss Havisham / grigio con bellissime porte francesi che si aprono in questo spazio magico coperto di edera e altri vitigni appesi .Inoltre abbiamo decorato le pareti con un miscuglio di bellissime .specchi antichi d'oro che abbiamo comprato a diversi negozi di spedizione intorno a Firenze tutte in diverse dimensioni e forme .tra cui un gigantesco specchio antico ( 6 ​​metri di altezza ).che poggiava sul pavimento .Abbiamo chiesto il fiorista per portare ancora più edera da aggiungere alle pareti e tessere intorno gli specchi per farli sentire come se fossero lì da secoli .Sono sicuro che io sono l' unica sposa che ha chiesto il fiorista per rendere il luogo un aspetto più decrepito .ma onestamente .hanno fatto il più magnifico lavoro .Fiori Toscana ( il migliore !) Hanno fatto i fiori .

decorare l'interno della limonaia sono stati sedie antiche e divano acquistati al mercato dell'antiquariato di Lucca .Abbiamo finito per trasformare la limonaia in una grande e formale salotto che era stata troppo presa dagli elementi .La vestiti da sposa giustapposizione di mobili antichi con la limonaia rustico e il suo pavimento sporco di terra è esattamente il tipo di contraddizione abbiamo giocato con tutto il matrimonio tutto .

Dopo le bevande è venuto a cena.I nostri ospiti hanno camminato attraverso la villa - su un altro bel cortile alberato con alberi di ulivo decorati con centinaia di candele appese .Tra gli alberi .c'era un lungo tavolo coperto da una tela di pizzo splendida avevamo fatto in una tovaglia di tessuto che abbiamo comprato da un magazzino all'ingrosso a Prato .Il tavolo era decorato con candelabri e vasi antichi .pieni di arrangiamenti romantici e selvaggi fiori traboccanti sul tavolo .come l'edera salì i candelabri .Kartell sedie fantasma linea la tabella interrotto solo dalla sedia antico occasionale alle due estremità - e un divanetto d'epoca al centro del tavolo per la sposa e lo sposo .Veramente il tavolo era un capolavoro .E come gli ospiti mangiavano .abbiamo avuto 1920 riproduzione di musica che ha appena aggiunto all'atmosfera .

Invece di una società di catering .siamo stati fortunati a trovare ( grazie ai nostri wedding planner ).un famoso chef per cucinare il pasto per noi .E ' fondamentalmente la Paula Deen d'Italia e che ha fatto un lavoro impeccabile .L'abbiamo presentato con un po 'una sfida .perché volevamo un pasto completamente vegetariano .Ma lei tirò fuori splendidamente !

Dopo cena la torta è stata istituita nel grande salone della villa circondata da splendidi muschio e posto su una base antico con una splendida patina - abbiamo acquistato da un vicino cantiere di salvataggio .La torta è stato ispirato da Wedgewood con intricati avorio dettagli su ogni livello completo di cammei fatti a mano dal nostro artista torta maestro .Melanie .e sormontato da una corona di ispirazione vintage .E ' stata veramente mozzafiato.(E assaggiato incredibile come bene ! )

Dopo aver mangiato .abbiamo camminato lungo una passerella a lume di candela .giù la proprietà alla loggia ( una veranda coperta di sorta ) - in pietra antica .Abbiamo trasformato questa sala in sala sigari / grappa .Abbiamo voluto contrastare la pietra semplice e maschile con la decorazione femminile e morbido .Abbiamo drappeggiato le finestre aperte con ricco tessuto in velluto .E abbiamo acquistato un assortimento di mobili antichi da negozi di spedizione per vestire lo spazio come lampadari splendidi pendevano dal soffitto .

Poi sulla danza .Abbiamo convertito abiti da sposa on line il vecchio fienile in pietra in una pista da ballo / club - completo di photobooth !Qui abbiamo avuto la più divertente giustapponendo il moderno con l'antico .Una barra incandescente con avvolgono una delle colonne centrali della stalla .come il barista ci ha servito bevande.Lampadari di cristallo appesi alle pareti .Abbiamo decorato la stalla con decorazioni semplici e moderne - divani moderni bianche pulite - tutto arredamento bianco contro la pietra - come abbiamo ballato nella notte .Uno dei lighting designer premiere in Toscana illuminato lo spazio in blu e viola per aiutare a completare la trasformazione.

nostro matrimonio è stato davvero la notte più magica che mai.I nostri fotografi .Matteo e Katie hanno fatto un lavoro impeccabile come catturare la bellezza e l'atmosfera della manifestazione .Fotografia

: Matthew Moore Fotografia | Fiorista : Toscana Flowers | Abito da sposa: Reem Acra | Cake: Melanie Seccaini | Coordinamento evento: matrimoni Internazionale | Hair + Trucco : Katie Moore di Matthew Moore Fotografia | Luogo : Villa CatureglioMatthew Moore Fotografia .L'Arte Della Torta di Melanie Secciani .Toscana Fiori e matrimoni internazionali sono membri del nostro Little Black Book .Scopri come i membri sono scelti visitando la nostra pagina delle FAQ .Matthew Moore Fotografia VIEW PORTFOLIO L'Arte Della Torta di Melanie ... vedi portfolio Toscana Fiori vedi portfolio Matrimoni internazionale VIEW
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Romantico italiana sposa di destinazione da Matthew Moore Fotografia_abiti da sposa corti
last spring,
in firenze,
i met a girl -
we'll call her julia
(because that's her name) -
this one strange night
behind a secret bakery
that's open at midnight.
i was standing
on a small street
in italy
surrounded
by drunken chaos,
the smell of pastries,
and beauty.
how will i ever
forget her?
why would i ever
even try?
Chris Saitta May 2019
Venezia, its musical key of brick and shade
And the canals in rejoining polyphony
Sweeten the dour Church-ear.  
From the impasto knife and loose brushwork,
A thumb-smear of waves and gently-bristled strife
Rise to assumption of the cloud-submerged bay,
Mural of cristallo, only-light without landscape,
Made too from the winds of Murano,
Its clayed blowpipe of waterways molding
The lagoon of blown glass and bouquet of colored sea-shadows.

The Tiber lies on its side, like the lion and fox,
Licking its paws at empire’s dust,
A drifting gaze of water that already foresees
The swift-run northward to Romagna,
Where the veined fur of the roe will succumb…
A ripple twitches like one dark claw of the Borgia…

The watercolors of the Arno are a fresco
On the wet plaster of the lips of Firenze, Tuscan fire-dream.
Or like the warring leg in curve of counterpoise,
Sprung foot-forward to the daring world
And arm slung down in stone-victory
From this valley, too much like Elah,
With taunting eyes turned from the Medici toward Rome.
Titian revolutionized the style of painting that contained no landscape in his "Assumption of the ******" (circa 1515)
"cristallo" is actually a term that means clear glass, or glass without impurities, and was invented around the time of the Renaissance.
"the lion and fox" was a nickname for Cesare Borgia.
"Romagna" was his intended conquest.
"Elah" was the valley where the Israelites camped when David defeated Goliath
Darbi Alise Howe Jun 2013
Find me in the piazza where Neptune's confined
As night makes phantoms of us two entwined
Hold me tightly, with all your power
When we come across that evil tower
Where the feet of men once danced upon air
Please - do not let us not linger there
Instead, take me to the statues ball
Where shadows waltz across the wall
We'll join them in this moonlit masque
And spin until dawn begins her task
As darkness burns in morning's fire
Take my hand so we may retire
I'll place my head upon your naked chest
And savor the silence in which we're blessed
But most of all, do not let me leave
For home is not a place to grieve
Keep me here, until our hearts cease to endeavor
In our final moment, we will live forever.
One night in Florence
Maddy Jul 2021
Strong
Powerful
Delicate
Ever evolving
Creative and artistic
So Soulful
Stayed by the Duomo
David and The Medici
Easy to love
Forever in my heart
She is Italy for me
Luckily have met her sister cities
Until we meet again
Ciao, Bella.
Dolce Vita and Domani
Always
You gave me the gift of friends for life
Milioni di grazie

C@rainbowchaser2021
declan morrow Jan 2020
it was the first time we met; i was freshly 18.
and that Fiorentino barbuto--i guessed aloud that he was 24.
and he laughed at me, but softly.

i got into this italian's car unquestioningly,
the 'plan A' having been compromised.
Whitney Houston in my ears;
his hand drifting over my thigh;
the gold bracelet on his wrist.

desolate hilltop, well outside city center.
it was nighttime. so many twigs and leaves;
bottle of red;
political conversation;
sitting on two tree stumps;
trying to speak spanish;
city below.

we stood up.
his left hand took me; i bet he bruised me somewhere.
(i had shaved all over, thank god)

he caressed my face with his right,
his thumb dragging against my jaw
as he surely longed for someone who had left,
and i longed for the one i was yet to meet.
i saw the golden lights through my eyes pressed shut.
it's been a while since i actually wrote something; i've been reading more, though. i wonder how explicit i'm allowed to be in detailing my ****** exploits???
Teodora Pavel Nov 2021
golden threads this autumn bears
waves of thin despair at your iron door
Show Time, says Fosse, heart on the floor
when sunlit window gently flares

a crispy wind, a frivolous sunrise
oh, dance along, your fragile neck so white
Show Time, says Fosse, aglow with light
please, dance with me, and look into my eyes

golden threads this autumn bears
in every leaf, in every grain of dust
Show Time, says Fosse, it's my final lust
melancholy's dripping venom deadly glares.

"Autunno, se vuoi cogliere la frutta della mia anima, ti prego di non esaurire ancora il sole, il filo d'oro della vita, il filo d'oro della danza." - Gianluca Masi, known as the Dancing Alchemist, Firenze, the second half of the XVI-th century
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2018
~for Henessy J. Beltre and all the new Observers of the Universe~*



“my goal is to develop a more personalized meaning of beauty, love, and self actualization through my writing.” Henessy J. Beltre


each word, chewed upon,
individually and collectively
as I drive from Roma to Firenze,
long drives in unfamiliar scapes, olive shaded greens,
umbrella trees, and thin thickets of the vineyards planted
in the years notated as B.C.

are life pauses, asking, admission to the clarifying blankness
that commands rifle shots of riflessione (reflection)

your words, goading foaling, are all our goals,
succinctly refined,  for doesn’t every and each poem
asks through our eyes what are the visions of
love and beauty that is the actuality we ceaseless seek

avanti signorina!

unleash the wild words that will make your mission
burst from the ancient to the revitalizing, knowing this,
that the universals you seek to dress yourself within,
to share here, to create, to *actualize,

are products of your truths

be unaffected by stale mores, conventions dictates,
spill truths, soiled and used, cherished and recycled in
new ways, so that each of one of us
blesses you with one word:

exactly!



31/10/18

on the autoroute to Firenze

read https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2793919/universe/
SuzAnne, nee Christine
Irascible, Incorrigible, Indefatigable, Affable
Adopted sister of Doug and Mike and sort of Jill
Lover of ideas and stances
Who fears laryngitis and deafness
Who needs music and malleability
Who gives grades and advice
Who would like to see Firenze and the Pyramids of Giza
Who lives in Hot Water
Wilson, nee Doe
Yue Wang Yitkbel Jun 2019
Jacques de Rouge

The wandering pilgrim

Of poetic seekings

Drifted away once again

Oppose the Homeland Paris

And into the Heart of Italy

Known for many feats

Though,

One was in particular

Unmistakable

It is the City of Dante



Firenze, in a frenzy

Have manifested itself

In the Golden Light

Of heavenly stars to be

Alive with all characters

Past and passed.

Opening wide behind

Lorenzo Ghiberti’s

The Gates of Paradise

Dante himself emerged

From the centre

Of the Florence Baptistery

And ascended toward the light

The opening of Hope and Stars

Among the rings of Heaven

Jacques de Rouge followed,

In pursuit.

And kneeled before him,

As Dante stopped and stood

With the Eagle!

In Piazza di Santa Croce.



When Jacques de Rouge stood

In a shadow at Palazzo Vecchio

The shadow revolved like

Da Vinci’s Helicopter

With what seemed like

A bulging knot at the end.

Barely missed his head

Jacques de Rouge

Realized the swings

Were from the slingshot

Of none other than

That of the one masculinity

Of all masculinity

Michelangelo's David.



His marble complexion transformed

Almost ever so light and faintly

Into a smooth and pale flesh.

Jacques cast his eyes down

In an unavoidable instinct of shame.

When he looked up, the flesh

Is now a single dangling foot

Seconds from stepping into

The Niche of Orsanmichele

And approaching his beloved Christ.

Amen, and he proceeded.

Discreetly into the Secrets of Sandro Botticelli,

That which is secured marvelously

As the Standing Monument of

Giotto’s Bell Tower

And

Brunelleschi's Dome.



The Three Graces danced

The Venus stood in the classical position.

And one woman looked wearily at Jacques

Staring into his eyes.

And yes, Heaven it was.

As Jacques stood in the illusion of the weightless contrapposto.
Repost of an older poem:
The City of Dante

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

2:04AM

Yue Yitkbel Xing ****
Valerious Jul 2015
Magic aligned the astrological key,
Allied deep trenches in the grey sea,
With looming penitentiary,
Maybe later, in Firenze 14th century.
A better choice in dulce vita
where the bucket list glorious of Italiano
still major in Tuscany with Firenze
where espresso and towering inferno of pleasure
which plenty now profane only marginalize Athens
while Constantine would have his chalice a true major in language  
that Rome alight the world in gardens.
Firenze Brennan Jan 2017
She was a butterfly and I was a kid.
We had a kind of love that all of the gods forbid.
She had a heart so tender and placid-
the exact opposite of mine that was too rigid.

But there was something in the way she spoke;
though my walls were built sturdy, her voice managed to break through and for once, gave me hope.
But I know in my heart it won't be long before these all shall finally dissolve...
'cause time never stands still and the earth shall continue to revolve.

And who knows? Maybe tomorrow I'll be left with all of the memories that we both have enjoyed.
Goodbye little butterfly, I'm going back to the void...
I know this ain't something that we can avoid.

Fly high little butterfly, I know I'm just a kid.
But I know in my heart that I love you though all of the gods forbid.
I will love you from a distance-
and cherish this heart that's so tender...so placid.

-Firenze Brennan (Florence Samson
Yue Wang Yitkbel Nov 2017
Jacques de Rouge

The wandering pilgrim

Of poetic seekings

Drifted away once again

Oppose the Homeland Paris

And into the Heart of Italy

Known for many feats

Though,

One was in particular

Unmistakable

It is the City of Dante



Firenze, in a frenzy

Have manifested itself

In the Golden Light

Of heavenly stars to be

Alive with all characters

Past and passed.

Opening wide behind

Lorenzo Ghiberti’s

The Gates of Paradise

Dante himself emerged

From the centre

Of the Florence Baptistery

And ascended toward the light

The opening of Hope and Stars

Among the rings of Heaven

Jacques de Rouge followed,

In pursuit.

And kneeled before him,

As Dante stopped and stood

With the Eagle!

In Piazza di Santa Croce.



When Jacques de Rouge stood

In a shadow at Palazzo Vecchio

The shadow revolved like

Da Vinci’s Helicopter

With what seemed like

A bulging knot at the end.

Barely missed his head

Jacques de Rouge

Realized the swings

Were from the slingshot

Of none other than

That of the one masculinity

Of all masculinity

Michelangelo's David.



His marble complexion transformed

Almost ever so light and faintly

Into a smooth and pale flesh.

Jacques cast his eyes down

In an unavoidable instinct of shame.

When he looked up, the flesh

Is now a single dangling foot

Seconds from stepping into

The Niche of Orsanmichele

And approaching his beloved Christ.

Amen, and he proceeded.

Discreetly into the Secrets of Sandro Botticelli,

That which is secured marvelously

As the Standing Monument of

Giotto’s Bell Tower

And

Brunelleschi's Dome.



The Three Graces danced

The Venus stood in the classical position.

And one woman looked wearily at Jacques

Staring into his eyes.

And yes, Heaven it was.

As Jacques stood in the illusion of the weightless contrapposto.
The City of Dante

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

2:04AM

Yue Yitkbel Xing ****
KLJ Nov 2019
I don’t think about it all the time
But some of the time
it comes to mind
and I can’t get it out

That time I tried
to jump out of a window

Ive considered the ways
to make it prettier
more poetic
But like,
it wasn’t

I tried to jump out of a window
and I did it in front of my mom

I’ve read a few times
that travel would make me better
If you’re depressed
You should get off the couch
You should see the world
You won’t feel so bad if you leave the house

Well I was still depressed in Florence

I did it in front of my mom
while we were on vacation in Italy

She took my passport away
and locked it in the safe
I don’t know how to make that poetic
She told me I was a witch
a ****
I don’t know how to make that pretty

I couldn’t leave

We were on vacation in Italy
and I couldn’t leave
and she wouldn’t stop
So I tried to jump

The only pretty part
was sitting on the windowsill

Her voice was blocked
and I felt the breeze on my toes
as I dangled
and looked down
on the soft pink building below

I love pink

I was free

But that beauty ended
Brought back into the world
her voice begging me to stay
and promising to stop

She pulled me back in
and told me I did it for attention
Paris was okay and
Firenze was fine
Bombay was super
we had a hell
of a time, but the
jewel in the crown was
when we set right down
in Kalamazoo.

Everything new but the pace of the place,
restful, like eggs
over easy.

To please me
she played me
Tchaikovsky,
I
listened intently
which meant
she too
was pleased.

To tease me
she did
what
great lovers do
when they set up together
in Kalamazoo.
Night swells with the sweet soarings of tenors.
Beauty floats lightly across the airwaves.
Santa Croce looms as Spirit’s center.
Dante’s Commedia he gave away.
Today he reigns as Italy’s mentor.
Great art leads the way out of Plato’s cave.
Michelangelo falters and splinters
His sculptures. Bright poems to young men he saves.
David stands tall through the chills of winter.
With Goliath’s cold head in hand, he raves.
Florence ferments like wine from a vintner.
It tastes of an angelic chardonnay.
Remember the city’s ancient cantor.
He yodels and chants of its marbled fame.
Firenze is the Italian name for the city of Florence, home to Dante, Michelangelo and many other famous writers and artists. Along with his great sculptures, Michelangelo was also a poet of distinction. Santa Croce is the church where Dante, Michelangelo, Machiavelli and other Florentine notables are buried.
Maddy Oct 2021
She beckons me to return
Something changed when the words work to live became a mantra
Celebrating friends and family with a joy never known before
Just because and a dolce vita state of mind
You enjoy and take out the good stemware and stuff for special occasions every day
You make every moment a holiday because indeed it is a gift to be here and enjoy
That is the reason
So until we meet again dear lovely cities
Your art and culture never stop filling my cup
Firenze look for me
Venezia your magic fills the air
Italy with a style and colors of its own
A tutto c'e' rimecho fuorche la morta
Arrivederci alla prossimo


C@rainbowchaser2021
while there is life there is hope
Goodbye until next time
Florence
Venice
Lillian May Oct 2022
A little tipsy in the folds of Firenze, Italy
My lover weeps a tear or two
We whisper quietly
The dark of our room and the heaviness of our hearts
The fear of a love that’s lived loved and lost
Of a life flickering out like a too-short wick
We wish to be something of stories and
He wished to be the stuff of legends and
I wish that very much too
Now I shed a tear or two
how I wish he would hold my hand
And tell me how this is how things go when
You’re building a life together
Two in one
Two by two
Brick by brick
Line by line
We write this little poem or story or rhyme
And so it goes on
God, may this all be for your glory
And maybe, just a little bit for ours too?
1.
Framed by a well-worn,
wooden windowsill,
we peer down on Purgatory
from our hotel perch
high above the restless shores
of Lake Como.

Behemoth slabs of marble
hang in limbo: rough-hewn
bodies awaiting their savior —
the divinely appointed sculptor
to chisel away the sins of their world.

Reflected in the window’s wavy glass,
the ghost of Michelangelo
glides past — an aging slave to beauty —
humming an Italian hymn to Venus
in syncopated rhythms.

He whispers that the stone
comes from Carrara,
carved out of ragged mountainsides,
carried down muddy, makeshift roads,  
crated onto misshapen barges,
then barreled down the Arno River.

Last stop: Firenze.

2.
In his hands, marble beams
as the body of the beloved,
draped in splendor and light,
draped in radiant form — form
of the sculptor, not the sculpture;
of the master, not the slave.

Beneath the rock-rough surface
of his métier, his soul
struggles to emerge from stone,
rising in rapture toward the divine,
rising on wings of beauty,
rising on wings of desire.

In his hands, marble melds into a mirror
of the making mind.
He levitates, an embodied ideal,
rising higher, ever higher,
toward his immortal beloved —
yearning to be made real,
to be made flesh,
the “coarse and savage bark”
of the artist’s first art.

3.
We come late to all
high lofty things
,
he wrote.

And so we peer at the pit of Purgatory,
into its dissonant, disturbing discovery
that art cannot save,
that art cannot rightfully claim the artist’s life,
that art cannot breach the infinite reach
of divine love.

What happens is what is real;
but what is real is what we make happen.


The only choice, then: to go down, down, down into stone;
down into the blood-stained marble;
down into the rough-cut corners of regret.
Inconsolable, sculpture crumples into dust.

First, the patina falls away,
then appendages and organs —
everything but the sightless sea-surge
of skin, the seamless sanctuary
of pagan heroes and gods.

4.
The ideal — immensity, enormity, infinity —
ignites in unrequited desire. The heart strains in vain
to bear the weight of stone.

In Purgatory’s pit,
the master stumbles:
art cannot save him.
The body of his beloved crumbles.

Chiseled above his tomb:
Ripeness is all.

— The End —