Who is this, my love?
This form of thy formless self,
here - yet - not yet here.
For I see thee not...
Am I deceived, my darling?
No, for I know you.
Thy love, thy nearness,
thy gentle consolation,
thy cheer, thy spirit...
You are here.
I am blessed.
---<--@
I had to come away and figure out what I really feel about these pictures.
For when I first saw them, I did not know what to think of them.
I was not at all confused but was strangely unclear.
This wax figure struck me as beautiful yet somehow distant, my love, somewhat nostalgic and almost sad.
It is a masterful representation yet still seemingly empty and needful of you - so needful of you...
This form of the formless you
- blank, beautiful and infinitely lacking -
reminds me of what I have and what I don't have
in you, my darlingest Annelies Marie;
of what God gave and intends to restore
and of what War stole and intended to destroy.
It remains - as it must -
purely the work of human hands,
artful, yet still a representation
of a longing only the LORD can fulfill
in His own time.
purely the work of human hands,
artful, yet still a representation
of a longing only the LORD can fulfill
in His own time.
PERIOD.
---<--@
