Bossu Enflammé

New smoke rises from old spire,
in the poetic city.
A crying world feels the fire,
though they shan't sit in pity.

Cathedral of hope,
and inspiration.
They'll do more than mope,
will of a nation.

The godless and the devout,
standing hand in hand as one.
Soon they'll work day in, day out,
to mend all that was undone.