Its only a building; bricks and mortar.
Through years of ardent polishing
oak pews gleam. Multi-coloured shafts
bend, to fall serenely on religious runes,
telling homilies of ages past.
These walls store lives little remembered,
carved names, angels, saints and wreaths -
imbued with forgotten love in stone.
We come to worship, ease life’s fears,
we sing comfort, arches absorbing our song.
But it is not the building breathing peace,
somehow, somewhere within these walls
a presence that we can feel
silently strengthens us beyond our hopes,
giving courage to those who quietly kneel.
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