<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=392539" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>S a c r e d {Terza Versione}</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Approaching the carved stone fountain <br>on a skin-toasting summers noon in Milan, <br>there's allurement for one to take both hands, <br>and immerse them beneath the fresh, cool ripple, <br>of the clear umbrella of decending liquid, <br>casting prismed rainbows off the Iris of the Sun. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet...in the center town squares of Italia, <br>where art is non-negotiabally sacred, <br>dipping hands in Borghese or Trevi <br>would be likened to the daring sacrelig-<br>of ensconcing ones' feet <br>in the Baptismal at Peter's Basilica. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sacred be quite subjective, though-<br>Traditionalists tend to scoff at such notion; <br>not an odds-makers chance <br>to grade 'old school' mantra; <br>castes of olde-garde sage and stripped cultures, <br>still embrace the tarnished green copper <br>of that which once shone as bright gold, <br>rules that withstood times maverick stains, <br>and of which to those traditionalists, <br>are objective, indelible....'jacta alea est'! <br>And because so... these judgements of they <br>must be acknowledged, respected...the same, <br>And, the fact that opinion is deciding factor -<br>is a privelege, quite Sacred in itself.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Frank+James+Ryan+Jr.">Frank James Ryan Jr.</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=392539" data-title="S a c r e d {Terza Versione} de Frank James Ryan Jr." data-description="Approaching the carved stone fountain on a skin-toasting summers noon in Milan, there's allurement for one to take both hands, and immerse them beneath the fresh, cool ripple, of the clear umbrella of decending liquid, casting prismed rainbow..."></div> </div> </div>

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