Isn’t marble a funny thing?
It’s the great supporter,
A champion of gravity,
The substratum of society,
If you think about it,
And yet, at the same time,
It’s so frivolous, ubiquitous
To the point we use it to hold
Wine bottles and coffee pots,
Plates, knives, and forks,
We eat over the stuff,
Spill crumbs and grease on it,
And it turns the other cheek,
Looks on, never even flinching,
Poised and ready to embrace
The next task, as if bound
By some divine duty to soldier,
Silent, hushed even, onward.
It almost makes you wonder
If that’s what Rodin
Had in mind all along.

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