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An Encounter With A Monument

While traveling alone down a lonely way
I saw a man standing on the frontage
Of his house which was situated on a hilly bay;
And where he stood was a coign of vantage;
He was tall and gallant, his complexion was fair;
And that morning, he was looking happy and gay;
He waved at me and I waved back at him;
Though the atmosphere was so misty and dim;
In excitement, I greeted him ‘Good morning sir! ’
And expected something vice versa;

But there was no reply till the morning sun shone;
Then a bitch came in sight gnawing at a bone,
And then I thought, maybe he couldn't hear me
From that range or that he wasn't listening attentively;
I decided to advance to where he stood;
I noticed that he was still smiling for good
And that his hands that were in the air,
As if they were raised up at once in pair;
As if he was waving them never did sway;
I was sure they would stay still like that all day;
No wonder he neither moved his body nor his head
To all the soothing words I had said;
Then i paused and mused a moment
Behold, the man was a monument!
Could it be the work of the medieval Michelangelo
That such a monument should deceive me so?
On the torso of the monument was an epitaph
Which read 'You passing there, this is my cenotaph;
In life, I was charitable, well mannered and kind;
But now I'm immobile, ever smiling and blind'
I realized, the man i thought handsome and brave
Was just a decaying dust lying in his grave;
Then it dawned on me; such time I had spent;
In trying to meddle with a mere monument;
Yet, I prefer smiling at a statue, nonliving
To encountering a stony face of a living being.

Submitted: Wednesday, October 05, 2011


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