Poem 10 – Marble Statues in the Yard

Marble Statues in the Yard

The marble statues in the yard
Sometimes dance late at night.
They possess a secret inner power,
Which lies hidden in sunlight.
I observe them from my window
From my room in the dorm.
They ignore me as I watch them
In their elemental form.
Demons and winged angels swing
Horse and gremlins fight.
They dance to a single rhythm
The cool music of the night.
Rolling, turning, moving as one
Shapes winding by on a top.
In and out, figure eights
Dancing with out a stop.
Color erupts like a kaleidoscope,
Broken fragments and form.
Purely abstract roiling
Clouds churning in a storm.
My eyes grow tired,
The spells almost complete.
But this night the dance changes, 
It takes on a ferocious heat.
The dance rages, moves ragged.
Swirling into a chaotic swarm
Something detaches from the discord
A single white carved form.
Emerging from the center
From the twisting broken core.
Different in its simplicity
A sculpted man, nothing more. 
He raises up his hands,
Begins to control the dance.
His presence quite commanding
From his fingers to his stance.
The dance gradual shifts
More beautiful than before,
Under new direction
The statues suddenly soar.
Shifting and altering quickly
Changing more and more
I feel my eyes grow heavy.
A slide softly to the door.
When I awaken in the morning
The yard is like before,
Except their is no man
Leading the sculptures off to war.
With thanks to Auguste Rodin.  I have no idea what this poem means.  Maybe a night after too much pizza before bed.

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