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Stars of Crinoidia Art and Nature

A fossil of a crinoid creates shapes and lines that mimic those of a certain artist. Does nature agree with the aesthetic of fancy? What does this strange concurrence mean for the artist and the viewer?

The beauty of the starry night,

locked within the depths of limestone and sand,

unveils a new life beyond the sudden blight,

to fit the grand pattern of nature’s band.

It has journeyed the eons of changing lands,

seen the wild beasts that once ravaged the tempest’ous seas,

from the shadow of the leviathan to the craftsman’s hand,

grasping the tail of wonder amid the sway of a wand’ring breeze.

The Opening Verse

This title is under the Peabody Collection

A Crinoidian Star

A piece now unearthed,

gently fighting its way up over the ages,

to once again prove its forgotten worth,

and reappear across the pages

in some form or art,

to awaken the dazed love of new hearts,

brought alive by the birth of Selection’s chart,

made to sunder the periods apart.


He witnesses the eye of a brand new life story,

where nature seeks to unify the time.

The swirls of weathered pain lie sketched over the river blue,

beneath the scarce façade of the starry night,

once more recalls the interior journey of stilted glory,

in the daily woes of the wayfarer’s climb.

Yet the detail etched in the paint master’s stew,

make their way in the Crinoids’ fight.


Stone has hardened the lilies’ glide,

dissembling their beauty in those swirls

only made possible by the passage of long and immeasurable

pressure bubbling under the crock pot of a fisherman’s boil

whose master sees the imminent woes of the mundane

along the steeled tracks of the heaving train…

But they eventually break away. He understands

the patience of the passing moment in this grand song.


It is the desire to possess, the devotion to actualize

Nature. A struggle for perfection that leaves others wanting

none. One by the brush and the other by the time.

Forgotten by the others, not a mere memoranda given in the

worship of the creator’s hand. But it is the truth,

witnessed firsthand within the enfolds of the jagged slab

split open, for nature wrestles an immense hand to awe

and silence those who would not listen thence.


And now,

free of the confines of that forceful tune,

we look to the unsettled mess before us

and see the real meaning behind those swirling shades that

blinded the rumbling mass. It is time,

to stay awhile and listen to that rustic tune,

across the vast realms of earth and sky,

somewhere along the cosmic line that forever aligns us both.