There is a Place deep in the heart of Paris
where memories lie.
Interred in stone,
yet fragile and beset
by a maelstrom of bodies
and minds,
never knowing or realizing
who they strive to wash away.
These bones of the Earth were plucked
from their modest rest,
and thrust skyward
in a tower of memory,
bearing aloft a Liberty,
on wings
of limestone, with a marble heart
beneath a skin of gold.
She shines in the early afternoon sun,
leading a charge
for all of us
who yearn to believe
in the hearts of man
and woman,
who will be at this monument of liberty
next the Bastille comes around.
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