oil on panel, 18in. x 12in. ±45.7cm. x 30.5cm.
When the gales cry out and are by one heart heard
The sufferings intone are by one heart cured
And though we are fawns, fraught with feathers; feathers in days
And feathers in fate
Beneath those feathers, the truth is found and finds its form
A pearl, a stone, a rose, a thorn
Who will it be who hears life's pain?
A sinner, a stranger, a soul unchained?
For if we have not a life to feed; a wish, a wife, a child, a dear in need
Could it not be us to absorb this deed?
Could we not turn our stray to those that bleed?
And could we not dry tears with our own lost greed?
This is the likes of a human, a hero
The distinction between a villain and sparrow
Is it you?
Is it me?
This feather in fate, tossed by wind, way at sea
This feather, the key,
to whom these feathers so grace to be