Art From The Edge Of Time

HE WHO

Seated god
Says:
“your eyes
are held
Captive
To my stillness.”

He who,
nameless,
named
Now sits,
throned naked
In memory halls.

He who,
voiceless,
whispers
In echoing soul.

Tied by more
than chance,
Tied by here,
by holding stare.

He who
holds steady
the golden promise
Of sun’s journey –
torc horizon,
Aloft,
glinting heavy.

Joined:
the two apart
woven now
To strong chain.
Just like this.

Eye locked,
mind forged,
Welded,
hammered
across lifetimes.

He who,
naked,
needs no armour,
Who,
cross-legged,
needs no defence.
Mountain looking,
ocean speaking,
Still as centuries.

He who,
hair braided,
hair cloaked,
Looks out from,
in to ,
Within, within
This circle,
This heavy
wheel horizon.

He who,
Is.

—-

This is one of the most enigmatic of coin art images, as the simple ones sometimes are. A naked seated male figure. Either with long braided hair or with a…