Passing a fount they’ll brave the lion’s stare
and open unaware those invisible doors.
Where framed character hurls textured color
and furrowed brows smooth as strokes of spirit
curl minds from the concrete to capture
conceptual creatures in verdant movements
that can bitter or burst the heart in a single pass.
There in those quieted halls, ancient clayed souls
will soften to bare the sculpted elegance of renew.
Until turning as dusked lights they depart,
brushed and curved by the trade of arted hands
that have coaxed to claim the dreamer’s due
from a shadowed palette of forgotten hues.