The living statue

Sometimes I wonder,
What happened to the man,
With a petrified heart,
A beating stone.
A man, whose dreams were crushed,
Into gravel and dust.

His blood was frozen,
His eyes like stones,
Grey as cold, sharp granite,
Beneath the moss of their green.
His aura, bitter Ice ~

It is as if that statue of a man,
Cracked and came alive.
His stone heart glowing red,
Like hot magma,
Pumping lava into his once icy veins.

Skipping beats,
Dancing heart,
Eyes no longer grey,
But forest-green.
His aura, longing warmth.

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About Fredrik Kayser

Everything is connected.
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3 Responses to The living statue

  1. What a beauty. :)
    Very strong images, well written Fredrik.

  2. Fredrik Kayser says:

    The statue was an older version of myself, but that me is many years into the past now. :)

  3. sethsnap says:

    Great job! Love it. Who’d you have in mind?

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