Looked at his creamy layer
of upper limbs bare
and a stick in one hand
his feet on cloudy shapes
in white he draped...
raising a hand
was he assuring someone?
but whom ?
In the room
there was none
only a sun
above just his head
glowed unnaturally bright
and the light
from the scene fell on me...
Plockhorst must have seen the same kind of glow
surely he did and got more...
He must have got the touch of his hand
and heard the steps of his feet
quite near to his heart...
he must have felt the same shower
but more of that...
more of rays of the unnatural light
coming through the cracks of the wooden unpolished door...
a piercing blowing blinding one...
Plockhorst must have been rightly inspired
so his paintbrush moved so smooth
and so I am given the chance to brood
at least for some time so benevolent and gracious...
and the room suddenly looked so spacious-
as if a whole country side had arrived...
and flocks of sheep and shepherds came alive
with chirping of birds and cooing things
O I died on the ever spreading green...
O I just died to be born again...
Plockhorst brought a resurrection same...
[on a painting done by Bernhard Plockhorst(1825-1907) on the Resurrection of Jesus]
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