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His own cold Galatea, he has hewn From rough untempered flesh a form… - Poets, Writers and Artists with Pre-20thC Style [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
Anachronic Arts

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[Jan. 8th, 2005|09:13 am]
Anachronic Arts
anachronic_arts
[kazamatsuri_kai]
His own cold Galatea, he has hewn
From rough untempered flesh a form refined
And, ah! of such bright beauty that the moon
In shining on him finds herself struck blind.
Of such a grace, such innocence entwined
With wanton taste and need, he could not be
Of any other birth; from his own mind
He sprang. No mother bore him, none but he
Created him. Brave youth, to struggle free
Of nature's grim design, and live as such;
To bring such sweet, unnatural joy to me,
To be the jewel sculpted by my touch,
The rare, exquisite taste that draws my kiss.
Beloved boy, you are pure artifice.
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Comments:
From: _b0c0u287_
2005-06-11 01:11 am (UTC)
Nadosh!
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