The Gargoyle and the Confessional

The doors opened and he entered within……
As his cursed soul walked past the mighty gates
Which stood high enough not to allow even the drier winds.
His footsteps could be heard, he perhaps stumbled at the altar;
And remained there as the half-shut corner window illuminated him.
The light shone upon his face and he thought it was a good omen.
So he stood up again and walked on the path made by that dim light.
Scattered, diffused, refracted… but he could still follow the rays.
And walking thus he reached beyond them… in semi-darkness.
The rays perhaps were not allowed there, but vision was unimpaired.
All he could see was a chamber; small and draped….
He had reached his destination, the light had guarded him…
Elated, he went closer…. But stumbled again…
‘Rise my child!’ Came the voice from within. ‘Rise and speak.’
‘For I am here to listen to you and no one else can know
As even the rays can’t enter thus far. And winds? They never blow.’
‘Confess your sins, your doubts…. release your soul ‘

And he said….
‘I do not know if I am at a sin but I have this eternal thirst
That goes unquenched day and night even if the clouds do burst.
So I forever keep walking because I believe one day I will know
Where waters lie….at the home of winds or beneath the snow?
But I never seem to find them and my search never ends
As I don’t even know the form of it and the shapes that it pretends..’

As he spoke the fenestras slammed one by one in noise..
The rays shattered…. the doorway closed…
The drapes fell down….. the confessional broke its disguise

‘Yes thirst is a sin, the winds are to blame…but you carried it along
And came in with it, in this sanctum of content, I will quench your thirst
But you must for then serve, sacrifice and pay for your wrong.’

And as the words ended the rays integrated again;
Now lighting a new path above.. right above where he stood.
And in the light glowed a scimitar; edged and polished.
The altar shone and the sword fell down…. Blood all over.

And now he would reside in the same church… forever..
Hung at the door… his mouth opened wide… And his thirst?

Well… you will know if you ever saw gargoyles at the doors
The water keeps flowing through but does it ever taste a drop
He is serving still but what was made of the promises of the bishop?

2 comments:

Aditya Mani Jha said...

Gargoyles on the gates of hell
Geared up for a 'show-and-tell'
Grinning up at me nice and slow
Verily do I need to know

What quoth the price
Of that terrible smile?
Of squinting, leering all the while?

Mark my words, sweet child of mine
And I'm sure you'll do just fine...
Even when you're off the boil
You never smile at the Gargoyle...


:)
I couldn't think of a more fiting tribute....

deshu said...

"Dark" I was indeed correct

I loved the part when the sword fell down.
exceptional mast tha
the mental picture scared the hell out of me ...