Sunday, March 24, 2013

The church.

  There is not a word that I have searched for in the desperate breath of my mind.  Lingering in this land of forgotten promises and all things that make us holy.  I pass the empty ruins of a tall church.  Its beams have almost fallen into themselves and the path inside of the building is sketchy at best, but I craw inside.  Placing my eyes high above, I watch as columns of dust hover over and make their way in and out of small crevice's in the roof and I wonder if any faith is left inside.  I hold my hand together, as if to pray but I see that you have already entered the space.  It is not holy ground.  It has lost its power and now you are free to move upon its grounds.  I hold back and stay seated-seated in the pew closest to what once was the door-and hold tight my strength.  I am not afraid of you.  Not anymore.  You have lost your power over me and what once was can never be again.  The beams waver, as your shadow floats high above me and empties itself onto the walls.  Down they go.  The heavy thud of cement and brick turning towards me as I run out and lay upon the green grass.  I have escaped, but only for a short time.  Soon you will be following me again with the ramblings of a mad man, but for now I am safe and everything is silent. 


  1. A metaphorical master at work again!! ... the ruined church being the shell of a once-complete person now haunted by the shadows of a past that won't let go ... wonderful!

    Ian x

  2. Thank you Ian!!!! You understood it perfectly!!! :)