Reliefs – Toni Iskulehto
Under the winter, I played with blocks as if in a madhouse.
I made one block out of glass, another out of tape.
I painted over them with my will and hope.
I mumbled earthly things as always.
I think I got the blocks in place.
Look at them now—am I anything other than what I am?
Some madman called me a cross-bearer.
Why the hell should I carry my cross?
Let God carry whatever He wants.
This text was created with AI assistance