In a temple, you wept at the divinity painted above. You stood in a library and read your future in a book, or perhaps lying upon the hallway rug. A fountain’s waters harmonized with your wish. He carved the game piece, and you imagined it into life. She shaped an earthenware bowl, and made you dream the hands of a lost love. People gather at museums, arguing over who is the God of Art. They spend their lives searching, as you are now, instead of realizing they have already seen, smelled, heard, touched the divine. The God of Art: there, and over there, and everywhere.

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