Page 8 - Contrast1965Spring

IMPRESSION CREDO

Can a rose lie?
Or an orchid?

Or the small brown lichen clinging to the rock of its existence
Gi ve false impressions of their fate?

II

On a lone turret a man stands
Watching the glowing orb of the rising sun
While, in the dying silence of night,
A bird sings its greeting to the day.
Hidden eyes watch, and a falling stone
Frightens the bird, who is then silent.

And wi ph a flash not of the sun,
With a roar not of the wind,

The man falls from the turret,
And the hidden eyes depart.
And all is silence
Until the bird begins again,
. In the boldness of silence,
Its song to the morn.

III

An iron ball swings on an iron chain
In a deliberate arch of distruction.
Bricks fall to an empty street

Amid the rising dust of a decaying city.

"We destroy to build again," a worker says,

And mortar crumbles. .

Paint oozes in a curved line

Across the white face of a smooth canvas.
"I create," the artist says,

And the paint proclaims his testament.

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