Weathered Souls (another poem by me)

originally posted on my second, personal blog wildcharismaandwanderlust.wordpress.com

oldchurch

Weathered Souls

Soft, silky silence.

Hallowed walls etched

With the tears of a million

Weary subjects.

Shadows reached for the ceiling,

Masking the pretty glass.

Hollow room.

White ash sprinkled on the floor.

Sorrow lives in these walls,

Yet pain ceases to exist.

Regality in misery,

Woe and pride.

Shuffled feet slide down the steps.

A hum descends.

The gray lifts.

White curtain ascends.

Soulful melody erupts,

Breaking the tepid quiet.

Gold, brass banisters,

Wither no more.

Speckled white, gray, gold.

Ash replaced by honey.

Floor the color of milk,

Wishful souls devour.

k.a-i

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