In a Passing Glance

Nary a sound carried in from outside,
absent wind, yet window ajar,
As young eyes, alive,
engaged in wordless discourse ~
with ancient eyes, half-smiling.
The spark of youth, impervious to fear,
opposed by stoic gaze, too old ~
to be afraid.
Neither in possession of wisdom, or thought,
their fortune built,
upon foundation: emotion, instinct.
Neither was wise, yet nor were they fools,
as they, bare-handed builders,
carved life,
out of stones.

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About Fredrik Kayser

Everything is connected.
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