A representation of poise,
A distinct lack of intelligible noise,
And yet,
A conscious image of thought,
No sign of tensions wrought,
Brought or sought,
Just calm and collected,
Outside interference rejected,
All notions inflected and inspected,
For an ultimate unknown conclusion,
Unhelpful ideas banished as an intrusion,
To the Gates of Hell,
Concentrated contortion,
Like a victim under a spell,
Leading to this expression of one art form to another,
To a sculptor, from an expressive inker,
From one type to the next,
Thinker, to Thinker.

© Alex Frost 2012