THE SCULPTOR | TAKIS PIERRAKOS

He strikes the chisel with the hammer
And counting.
Hesitations and certainties
Are reflected on the materiality.
Every time that a flake falls dawn
The sculptor looks the result deeply in the eyes.
He sleeps and wakes up on alluvia.
Like the bow of a ship,
Which rams slowly the thick fog,
The statute reveals itself.
Captured on the shore,
The crowd feels anxious;
Every striking contains a possibilty.
For goodness sake !
Do not interrupt the artist
His life runs a serious risk;
He can be hanged at any moment
By the Female Ruler, who ordered the project
His tyrannical and ungracious will.

By Takis Pierrakos