THE TALE OF THE OX

 

For The Coming Heirs

 

Does it please your eyes

This figure I fashioned upon the stone

Best seen by torchlight

As when first drawn

Here

In the flickering silence

Where once I stood alone

 

The ghostly spirit image lives

It mutely begs to speak its heart

Released to roam for all to see

The guiding hand so long removed

From its sorrows and its reveries

 

Finally done the ox’s tail,

Before my own finality,

The warmth of sunlight still availed

The sweet and sacred gift of life

That gently raised its lovely veil

 

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