SciFi and Fantasy Stories: Poem for a gargoyle

Tonight once more fair moon will be pregnant,
heavy medal in my blood crimson sky.
The scent of the air invites for a hunt,
so I stretch my paws and prepare to fly.

Very old am I, bones stiff with cold.
Grey rock is my soul, creature carved from stone.
None see the splendor as my wings unfold.
High above I sit, but always alone.

Claws grip to the ledge, fear of letting go.
Stone mind is trying hard to recall,
as my eyes gaze to the houses below,
the last flight that made me leave my safe wall.

Once I was fearless, young rock very bold,
for each moon teased me from my base
and the spell could not keep its hold
when Luna called me forth to chase.

But now I fear that this might be the last
of many adventures beneath black skies.
for the same rock that formed me in the past,
now holds me fast with ancient stone ties.

The top of this cathedral I must ward.
It is my purpose, my life, my doom.
The sculpture must once more be restored.
Grey will be the color of my tomb.

Soon no more life will flow through these cold wings,
for they will be one with the rock below
and I will have become a solid thing.
My mind will stop, I will no longer know.

But in this crimson night I’ll fly once more,
before the inevitable comes to be.
For the last time above the roofs I’ll soar
and treasure the joy of being free.