Almost Lost
Incessantly it trods and plods
perpetual the pendulum.
So long before the abbey bells
tolled and told of hours passing
before the ticks and tocks of clocks
or shadows crept with solstice gods
no one to worship at its start
that knew not of a perfect love.
The kindest heart left drowned in tears
and wrapped in gross deformity,
yet sheltered by cathedral walls
in disrepair as much as he.
'til Esmerelda's gentle hand,
he knew no love, just hate and scorn
and like the brand from tempered flame,
it's burning love that made him strong.
So like the edifice was he,
an ugly house that held God's love
and Quasimodo's lonely heart
who'd toll the bells that silence hears.
Then in the end he found her dead
and sacrificed his mortal life
to sleep with one who truly gave
the only love he'd ever known.
Interred, yet not forsaken souls,
whose bones became entangled vines
that turned to dust when first exposed,
then blew to heaven ~ found in time...
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