Shaped by sea-known hands, this flawless round,
scooped from the hallowing wave while sea birds cried
above the cove of prayer, is poised within
our pity on the hollowed flank of time
that lies like dunes along the seascape air,
white as the mercy bird that smooths our sound
to stillness in the cool dream of her tone,
is this essential instant in the mind,
nirvana folding thought through praying palms
become stilled birth escaped from fare and flaw
to coolth of poise on peace, the endless tide
fused into stone upon a timeless shore.
Robin Skelton
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-an-untitled-sculpture/
