Art Lyrics by Thomas Pasatieri
In placid hours well-pleased we dream
Of many a brave unbodied scheme
But form to lend, pulsed life create
A flame to melt—a wind to freeze;
Sad patience—joyous energies;
Humility—yet pride and scorn;
Instinct and study; love and hate;
Audacity—reverence. These must mate
And fuse with Jacob’s mystic heart
To wrestle with the angel—Art
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Thomas Pasatieri Lyrics – Art