There are those who would convert just for the art

There are those who would convert just for the art
They are the chosen ones for whom gods are naked and words are beautiful
They would convert just for the sculpture, the domes, the pillars, and the paint
They would convert for the poetry of  saints
They see the perfect proportions in the hand of David and the finger of god
And they understand since they are mortal they must be flawed
Fear and vanity are painted into the perfect body and  perfect face
Hands outstretched they approach you with feline grace
There are those who see the genius of the golden mean and  perfect ratios
They are the chosen ones who would convert for the perfection of the prose
They see how parts of the body relate to each other
And how areola relates to aurora
These are not the nudes of  liquor and lust
Not the modernist hacks of warts and rust
There are those who would convert for this art’s divine aloofness
They are the chosen ones who can distinguish the sublime from the ridiculous
With every stroke of visual nobility, they cancel out the porn of stupidity
Carving, painting the grandeur of great poetry
The door is shut but at least now they have the key.
– Nausher

 

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