Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni was born on March 6th 1475 in Caprese, Italy.

“With my wet-nurse’s milk, I sucked in the hammer and chisels I use for my statues.”

Oh Michelangelo you beautiful man.  I read this quote from Michelangelo for the first time today.

Michelangelo you great poet, you architect of human thinking.  One day it would be very nice to shake your hand, say hello and share a meal.  Personally speaking I would call it a thank you.

Well, I share with Readers that I would sooner turn Andromeda upside down than change this, my own, Unfathomable thought around.

Michelangelo!  Michelangelo!  Wake up man.  Ah alas, he is in the dust from whence paint begins.

It will be a cold evening as Andromeda newly glides, her work of art stretching the span of light years at The Artist’s insistence.  My heart thoroughly delighting watching the stars perform their ineffable dance across the night sky.  Here whilst I lay at rest in the night and there also in her midst at my resting.

Hand touching hand.

Is it the human touch?  Is it the connecting with the Divine?  Is it that you can perhaps liken God to someone tangible?  You are a Reader, a person with shared intellectual capacity for thought and feeling beyond mere vessels.  Sinew.  Flesh.

Why is it that this particular Michelangelo fresco is so emotive to us as human beings?  Is it that we see Hope?  Or is it Peace?  Love.

Perhaps it is that we are required to look up to see the fresco itself?

Did Michelangelo know that this work would remain with us for centuries passed.  With us in memoriam.

I write.  Please, I am not boasting.  Whenever I write strange things I laugh to myself, now and then.

When a work of art is at its beginning it is the joy of finishing that is always in the heart.  Now, if not yet quite in the midst how much more joyous at the deep intake of breath arriving at the finish?

Beautiful art is breathtaking isn’t it.  It will surpass the life around it.

Verily more so joyous it will be even whilst I write seemingly indiscernible things with the fullest of joy upon me.

Millions of years can indeed pass to see a work of art.  Made ready for a new beginning.  Otherwise how else could we see Andromeda as she is now?

A glorious array.