House of God Forgotten

Sad reveries of a tattered religion

The chilled wind
whistles through
the skeleton church
Covered in
creeping vines
threatening
to overtake the structure


Once
the gathering place
of country folk
from surrounding counties
Cracked, weathered bell
can be glimpsed
beyond
the paneless window


Glory of the sanctuary
has faded
as seasons
played across the sky
Worn down
to bare bones
sheltering pews
from thunderstorms


Moss encases the hymnals
in a dressing
of this earth-scented velvet
Steeple remains strengthened
by the workmanship
of chosen deacons


Wasting away
rotting from the inside out
the harpsichord wails forlornly
Ghosts slip between
the alter &
the bone chime melody
of decayed timber


The cathedral reduced
to but a mere shadow
of its former self
Just a vestige
of an abandoned memory
refusing to crumble
gracefully.