Through the ages it guards the city
Its stony-posture high upon a ledge
Long before the Eiffel ever broke the horizon
To be a part of life’s hazy dreaming
Where no one will know
How many cold rains have fallen
On this demon
That ironically would protect
A cathedral from evil
Chosen to be the immortal observer
Never needing to turn its head
Unperturbed of sympathy or remorse
As it looks below and sees
The tugs of the sun
On the passing world
Against the irregular seas of saintly pigeons
Disguising the turning centuries like the leaves
As children forever run
Behind their own wrinkled eyelids
And the benches that are but thrones of time
Where even the proud
Must eventually sit
As the eternal watcher sees the lovers and drunks
Gather in their processions of shadows
Coming and going like the silent serpent
That flows through its dominion
The Seine that also keeps the secrets
Of the poetic magma
Its fragments ever changing, yet the same
Surrounded by the gray stillness of endings
Forgotten by each new face
Until the evening’s silhouette against the dusk
Where the horned-sentinel has never closed its eyes
And nothing is missed for too much is seen
AsIDream 