Hey, Rodin

Hey, Rodin -- what were you thinking?
Trying so hard to carve out your dreams
To preserve your inclination
Toward divinely-based creation
Found in a thousand chisled scenes

Hey, Rodin -- what were you wanting?
What heartaches did you hope to bronze?
Capture movements of emotion
Washing over its deep borw
But it just sits there thinking
And you're with the true creator now

Hey, Rodin -- your hands
Touched the souls of all your subjects
Did you plan to make a monument to man?
Did their hollow lives drive you
To fill your cast with more?
But it's only a cold mound of stone
When the curator's gone, and it sits there alone
Do you wish it could somehow dream on?

Hey, Rodin -- what were you feeling
As your muse of beauty whispered in your ear?
Do we all possess a spirit
Who will lead if we will hear it?
What did you do when your muse disappeared?

Did the dreamer die inside, the creator run and hide?
Did your tools dissolve to sharp edges and spheres?

Hey, Rodin -- what are you wondering
As you stare down at the world's creators now?
Will our inspired plan prevail
In yet-defined detail?
Will I listen to my muse's perfect sounds?

But now, Rodin -- what are you thinking?
Does your abandoned Dante plan still weigh you down?
The Thinker cannot dream
Or create another scene
Do you share the burdened lines upon its brow
As you rest in the creator's heavens now?

Hey, Rodin -- your hands
Touched the souls of all your subjects
Did you plan to make a monument to man?
Did their hollow lives drive you
To fill your cast with more?
But it's only a cold mound of stone
When the curator's gone, and it sits there alone
Do you wish it could somehow dream on?