Slipstate — Sam Spratt - Masks of Luci

Observation

From ancient wood, a visage grows, A mask emerging, nature’s prose. Is it the tree that births the face? Or mask that gives the trunk its grace? From Mayan hands and African lore, These wooden guardians came before. Carved with skill and imbued with might, They bridge the worlds of dark and light. Some say a spirit dwells within, Awakened by the craftsman’s din. In sacred rites, they come alive, Through them, the ancestors survive. A soul? Perhaps. A power? Yes.

EX:MAX