In a gallery, seemingly asleep in a glass box
lies an ancient ceramic vessel,
colourful, shamanic, symbolic,
raised from a Peruvian tomb.
Taught by nature,
magically dreamed into being.
washed by snowmelt rivers,
showered by freshwater springs and fountains,
dried in a forest of pine
scented with cedar, rosemary and thyme.
Now in a museum, alive with folk
whose footfall is gentle,
their every step soft.
In sweet slices of silence,
time stands at ease and
I am neither lulled nor coerced
to spend time in its company,
I am happy to absorb its energies
admire its artistry
and recognise it as a masterpiece.