Sculpture

Clouds cross steel wires,

They entwine all imagination;

Day and night's fragile membrane,

Spheres circulate between volumes and voids.

The gaze traverses the transparency of the sky.

Longings, perspectives, parallels, and the gaze

Goes on and touches the matter.

Why does solitude become static?

It chills the spine, aesthetically speaking,

There is life in cold matter.

Just imagine.

by Airton Sobreira