Abandoned by the side of an ancient cenotaph,
There she stands forever reading the epitaph.

A stone maiden tarnished by the scars of time,
Yet holding a visage as pure as the sound of the ringing chime.

Her youthful face shelters crevices and cracks galore,
Making fractals and mazes each leading to the next door.

Beware! You might for sure get lost in them,
She has herself gone through that mayhem.

One needs a dauntless heart to merge moments dot by dot,
To create the lines of life that can never rot.

Her atrocities and fights are still fathomless,
And neither have her curves nor edges returned to flawless.

Nevertheless she draws spectators from all around,
Who believe her to be the epitome of an art so profound.

We all stand like her, vulnerable to the agents of time -
Despite agony and hindrance, we do dare to rise to prime.

Because those who tread on the path of Phoenix’s Renaissance,
Do get up from the ashes to live their life for its true essence.