Observe A Statue: I
What a vision of beauty you are to behold! When I look at you I feel the yearning of a thousand lifetimes. Unrequited love I have never known yet I feel my heart breaking all the same. I remember the first moment my gaze fell upon you. The perfect smoothness of every curve. The milky glow of that marble shimmering against the backdrop of night. Moonlit ecstasy for all to see. In the daylight hours your majesty is not diminished. The otherworldly pose you hold in perpetuem is a vision of the celestial heavens that await us beyond the veil of death. She is a calling-the beckoning from beyond. An invitation for all mankind to ascend. To attain to heights not thought possible in all our fickle futility. You never change.
I love you, dear Statue. I love you. I love you.
Observe A Statue: II
The passing of seasons paints you in a new light. Or is it a new form? The pose has been altered in the subtlest of ways. Only I could notice. And your beautiful marble countenance has faded into something ambivalent. Why have you begun to change, O love of my youth? When I was a boy I could admire your perfection day and night without interruption of form. Now you have traded perfection for the mild creep of decay. I stare at you and watch you slowly sift into yet unknown forms as water slipping through a tightened grip. Where are you going dear Statue? What are you becoming? I am willing to remain rooted to the moist soil encompassing you. If you will but be unchanged.
I want to love you still, dear Statue. I want to. I want to.
Observe A Statue: III
How evil becomes you! Beautiful marble goddess I once held in my heart. You have been savaged by some demon of pitiless night. Possessed and twisted into a form I know not. Holy things must shrink away in disgust. And I follow close behind. My eyes see nothing but a haze of black and red over you. Bloodstained and cracking to disfigure your face into one of menacing dread. You are more gargoyle than woman. Where is the vision of the heavenlies you let me glimpse as a boy? Only death and the grave ooze out of your wounded form now. While the once moist ground has become parched and dry. There is not even any life in the soil which is burdened with supporting your infernal form. I must go for you have changed.
I once loved you, dear Statue. Now I hate you. Now I hate you.