Sectio Divina

“Pleas'd with his idol, he commends, admires,

Adores; and last, the thing ador'd, desires.”

1.Around the time when the night had begun,

6 In the dim light of electric wicks;

1 Numerals, within his mind, slowly spun.

8 The minute hand pursues each hour of fate;

0 And similarly, his cognition begins a chase.

3 Starting with an invocation, a supplication, a plea;

3 Asking God and the Muses to: set the thoughts free

9 And to direct his Will, toward his grand golden design.

8 Just then, as if some force lifted the mental weight,

8 The pressure of his task – his intellect felt start to abate.

7 So like the sculptor Phidias, his hands write…

4 …He feels the ivory, her every sensual contour;

9 Concealed in a pentagon, hidden in a coarse shrine.

8 His eyes picture, ingest, and savor her every trait;

9 His senses dine on her beauty, features so fine.

4 He could have died satisfied, lost in irises – nothing more.

8 Woman is Nature`s magnum opus, beyond debate.

4 Soon he would spring her from the stone`s core,

8 But at the moment, he felt sleep calling sedate.

2 To his adoration of female perfection (for now) adieu,

0 And he took his rest, next to her slab prisons base.

4 Drilling into his drifting dreams he feels her image bore.

5 Her pleasant voice buzzing like bees in his brain`s hive.

8 Her glamor and charm, how could any ever replicate?

6 Now, together their souls blend, and form a perfect mix.

8 Though other women he admired, each in her own way great;

3 This one was the symbol – the conception of perfection was she.

4 With her nearby, he forgot every other pointless chore;

3 And by her soft silver eyes, he became an adoring abductee.

6 Upon her delicate, satin skin she places his hands, and they transfix;

5 Behind her soft breasts, her heartbeat reveals: she is truly alive.

6 Lying together their bodies enfold, entwine, and fix – sticks.

3 Each person had become the other`s willful detainee.

8 He moved his head to kiss her, a desire he could not sate;

1 But when he felt her warm lips, like the rays of the sun,

1 He awoke and looking around – he saw there was no one.

7 When the eyes stare at the golden orb, vision with glare – will fight;

7 The same struggle ensues in his imagination, lost in a doldrums flight.

2 Yet, in that momentary dreamy luster, the glistening celestial hue;

0 He felt a sense of clarity, lend his spirit, its loving embrace.

3 He calculates: reality and fantasy, creative strife and glee;

0 and the dimensions of a golden triangle, he starts to encase.

9 Returning to the statue, he sets to work, touch caresses her spine;

1 Eventually, through her wavy marble hair his fingers lovingly run.

7 All the while his heart wishes she had life, with all of its might.

9 Daily he circles her, soon he admires the shape of her firm behind.

8 For all his instruments, his tools, cannot free life from her alabaster state.

0 Over time, like a needle which works repeatedly to make lace;

5 His craft sculpts the attributes, from his dreams each one will derive.

7 The craftsman’s lonely labor is his greatest joy, and a cursing plight.

6 His social life is enclosed by rocky barriers, and mental bricks.

2 He only understands this apparition, gorgeous aspect, and spectral view.

8 Like the others, he is endlessly caught, artists left to creatively contemplate.

6 He makes progress, and at times, she seems almost alive – his mind plays tricks.

2 The signs of sentient affection, he has always tended to misconstrue.

1 In the way sentiments of attraction, by neglect and time are undone;

3 He too feels his attention and concentration, attempting to try and flee.

5 Still – toward his aspiration, he forges forward, and continues to drive.

4 His skin is dry and dusted, but soaked in his desire – a torrential downpour

4 While a traveler stands on the threshold, staring out of their front door.

8 He`s been sculpting every early daybreak, into the evening hours late;

6 And to every freshly made curve, his soul, he plans through volition to affix.

2 On her succulent lips, and her supple hips – her aesthetics sparkle through.

2 All the while, the outdoor scenery shifts. Poems in the swirling cloudy stew,

7 While stanzas twinkle, written on various coal pages of crystal midnight.

0 Stationary -he revolves around, his tools axis – her busts figure and face.

5 On occasion passerby’s laugh, as he laboriously toils, still he`ll strive.

2 He remains cemented to his current objective, he attached with glue.

6 Those jests, like his chisel on stone, small pains each chip inflicts;

0 But by the same incremental degrees, he loses touch with this place.

4 Those who abhor his labor – he forces his emotions, and reason to ignore;  

6 Much like the stone remains stationary, despite the actions of pricks.

2 The precision nicks, shaping, and developments accrue;

8 Miniscule additions, and subtractions, manipulate her slate.

1 He is inching closer (a few more taps), his anticipation, are shocks which stun.

8 One final blow, and the sum of her parts will conjoin and form an aggregate.

9 Then, suddenly his spirits suffer strange effects, resembling a plumb line.

0 He realizes: the excitement of completion – her completion – will erase.

2 She is stand ready, except for the final touch, then off to her grand debut;

4 And this factor, the departure, his heart neglected to account for.

4 With her unveiling to the world, solitude, the action – will restore.

9 In that moment he experiences a joyful sorrow, which is hard to define;

7 To lose his dream, his art, his love – represents his only mortal fright.

0 There, in his workshop indecisive, he begins to frantically pace;

7 But, makes a choice – he completes her with a loving touch – so slight.

2 To Venus – over time, all his desperate prayers amorously flew;

0 She hear his request, and delivers a Goddess`s grace.

7 Sullen, holding his cold creation, he feels heat inside the white.

2 Stepping back, he now stares at her eyes, which are deepest blue.

0 In shock, he feels his heart like horses gallop and race.

4 She speaks, he jumps, and she says that “You, to me are Amor”!

1 Now that, their work has reached its conclusion – is done;

8 Together in flesh; they can both finally, actually, relate.

9 They drift into the unknown; drunk with Love, the strongest sort of wine.

3 Together, they spend forever – sailing on a page, two on a vast sea.

9 The story: Pygmalion, with his Galatea, hidden in a golden mean – a section divine.

Composed By: A.D.