unsent draft messages

Standing before the Notre-Dame,
Marveling at its resurrection,
Risen again, it stands anew, with disjointed imperfection.
The old and new bond at the cracks,
Befitting, one could say,
Its old resident – the hunchback.

I guess it is perception and belief
That can make joy of grief—
From faded façades to restored reliefs,
To the roof tiles above and ceilings beneath.

I marveled at this fallen cathedral,
Once again standing tall,
Though I wish I hadn’t noticed one thing:
The solitary shadow gazing back from the walls.