Amber petals

George Sterling knew how to say that we are easily fossilized, in the flower of fate, into the amber petals of our customs.
I don't like talking of myself in this blog, gives me a brain-freeze each time :-) However, although it is one of my artworks, felt pleased with the final result of this image. The extremely long serie of simulated flowers that started with the spring, is coming to an end with the last day of spring in the south too, on december 21st. It is also for me a way to be forced to move on, -this poem expressed the core of it very well, -to be forced to find inspiration out in the cold, and move out of the creative block, out of the "fossil resin". Good luck to me from then on. :-) I like the minutes I spend here.

"The Bones of Agamemnon are a show!"
And only yesterday I held in hand
That fossil resin from the Baltic strand—
The Miocene in mimic afterglow;
And there, distinct from mandible to toe,
Perfect as on the day when last he crawled,
An iridescent beetle widely sprawled,
Caught in that golden gum so long ago.

On some fine morning of the perilled Past,
He had gone forth so bravely (say, alone,
On his adventure), thorny and cuirassed,
Eager, perhaps, to win a scarab-throne,
But found a fate not all unlike our own,
Whom custom's pale viscidities hold fast.

George Sterling, "Amber".