Ambling as slowly as I could through
the Muse’e Rodin, I soon stood face
to face with the original “Thinker”,
still sitting on his rock, fist pressed
to his teeth, dreaming, creating, and
yes, thinking, after all these years,
and after all these years still an
inspiration to poets worldwide.
I studied him in awe, stared into his eyes
wondering if now he somehow was studying
me. I wanted to engage in conversation,
perhaps debate fine art, yet I was glad he
was only sculpture, knowing full well I
would play the fool to one who has sustained
fertile, non-stop creative thought for ages.
Though exhilarated to be in the presence of
this bronze poetic hero, I decided not to take
the chance, moving on to a lesser known Rodin
work, conceding any possible debate with The
Thinker without a word spoken between us.
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