Rattling and scuffling in the house of pens while he thinks ‘what fits?’
The model is far away – scope will have to be taken into consideration, but not for the distance.
Volume is tricky as it is expanded and contracted along with the shapes in my mind.
What was the colour again and was it close to transparent – or has it vanished? 
Memory recalls a great and massive frame – like wooden-beams from his home;
at last their is more and smaller deeds and skills – beautiful as the horizon.
yet the appearance scarcely reveals more then the gravedigger – humble.
Like a tale from Aesop he contains an enigma of wisdom or moral to remember.

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