The reveal

The final product is starting to emerge and I am filled with curiosity.

Is it a thin rusty ruin lying in a heap, or a burnished patina that I see taking shape?

A distorted modern piece, a nightmare? Or classical, like Vermeer, deep and rich with shadows and light?

Leftovers, or something new?

Have I honed the lessons of a lifetime into wisdom and dignity?

Or tumbled into twilight blind, deaf, and dumb, without a match?

What stands here reaching for the veil?