Praxsis

The fabric to the maker’s touch The wine flowing to the vintner The paint leaving the artist’s brush Silently falling snow to the winter It is the unfurling blossom that blooms An individual drop to a rushing cascade It is no longer a worm emerging from cocoon The unveiling of a mask at a masquerade First steps that are joyously amplified The cold instrument now playing hot The mean that is wholly justified As touching nothing conceivably not for there is masterpiece within the rock