Canonised when dead, cannonaded when in life,
Lofty your thoughts that savour of content
But loftier the craftmanship
More congruent in symmetry
Than ever are our warring senses-
All in silent watch -martyr.Not your lust
of martyrdom but the sculptor’s chisel
carves a living name, world wonder made.Sad,
Time and with it, centuries fail to see
Not light of fulfilment in your eyes
But hollow worn in stone,
History’s daintily cut lies-
Mere sensorium ruin.
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