Notre Dame Quietus
hewn from exquisite limestone
a sculpture expresses
mortality’s resolute march
however harrowing, our
paths will intersect, captured
in that eerie socket glare, while
cold fingers still our heart
ebbing away the voice, thought, breath
till but ethereal, we scarcely
a memory remain
Photo and Poem (c) by DC Lessoway
Posted in: Paris, Philosophy, poem, poetry, Travel
