The World of Myth Magazine

Guess they cannot, how we came into being.
For he who carved us, no mere mortal was he.
Into many dimensions could he see, near and far at the same time.
Inner eyes, middle eyes, outer mortal eyes.

Till they clicked at the perfect moment, harmoniously, in the perfect way.
And then would his hands flow of their own accord,
Recreating what he saw, dreamt,
Imagined us into these coalesced molecules of frozen perfection.

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