the archeologist

his head in the distance of


diminishing like in Giacometti


his arms stretching/stretching

out a long way into the past

where he digs to find the truth

about the existence of man/


his body has morphed into a

rock he digs about/around

dusting off the sand of ages

he tires out and snoozes

but gets alive

having come across a great

find – the sculpture of a green

woman/half blue

dunked into the surrounding

mineral juices

a bronze aphrodite

beauty symbol of ancient times

he carries in his arms

as if her feminine power

had instantly denuded him

catapulting him into the

half-blood prince

who fell in love with her

in spite of all intrigues and

fights for her favours

it was him

who had won the fight

in the end

with tenacity and patience.

the archeologist.



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