Perched atop a high rise’s edge,
He looked down upon the mortals below.
Fast paced people in a slowly evolving world,
Not a glance or a smile to exchange,
They looked through each other as they rubbed shoulders.
Chiseled from a single boulder,
Imprisoned in a grotesque sculpture,
He squatted on the edge with a grimace;
Contemplating, if it was a gift or a curse
His sculptor had vested on his sturdy shoulders.
Besides, the prevailing chaotic clutter,
His eyes stole a coy glimpse at a necropolis across the street.
An immaculate being stood clenching a wreath
On a piece of evergreen land amid the dead.
With her gaze fixed skywards, it seemed as though she looked up to him.
At full-of-the-moon she’d gleam celestially,
Like a bride-to-be she would look at him
Without a single wink in expectancy.
Relentlessly she would wait
Clad in virtuous white from crest to plinth.
Putting together all his might he would try
But frozen and broken he would end up after each attempt.
Upon those turbulent nights he would wish
For those rancorous bolts to strike
And shatter his confinement to set him loose.
A night did dawn one eventful day,
The heaven descended on earth invading every inch.
Bolts of thunder reigned with lightening and downpour;
The streets were washed clean leaving none standing firm.
Universe conspired; his prayer saw the silver line.
Came a piercing lance, an irreversible bolt.
Setting him free from the shackles
That detained him since he was chiseled,
Without turning around,
the Gargoyle leapt towards the marble Angel.