In the valley of despair made fertile by inadequacy
there lived a thief who set eyes on an angel on the hill
He knew the celestial was forbidden but doom's string pulled at him
He decided to recreate an earthly Angel and with that let his last vision fill
Roaming the world he learnt all the different coarse and fine arts
Elevated his crass country tact to an elite gentlemanly charm
Returned home expecting a new name to suit his new taste
but even with his loot of skills there was the same old qualm
He began assembling his antique, swindling the shine of stars for eyes
Carefully blowing the stolen scent of lilies to mimic the sweet breath
Stripping the air of its grace to impart deftness to the fingers
Slipping in thick honey to imitate the lips and their sultry warmth
He raided Vinci's drawers for colours to capture the perfect face
Pinched Michaelangelo's tools to sculpt the muscle's subtle curve
Cheating Tartini's sheet for the voice as it was music to his ears
Catching conceits to describe the beauty from Donne's oeuvre
Still his creation is nowhere close to what he remembered
it was not even an image of the one who lived in his heart
The elusive Angel remained as unatinable as before grinning mischievously
but he would never give up his belief on the immense power of art
He tried to find more to compare to better his attempt
Centuries would pass in seconds as he would work in vain
lost in memory of the same old spectacular sight he would not forget
He would happily try and fail and fall in love, again and again and again
A literature student interested in whatever life is offering and more so in what it is not.
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