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A lifetime spent within these walls,
like pages of a novel,
all withered and worn.
I have faced the wicked,
and felt their wrath,
and yet remain free of scorn.
This is the home of the righteous,
where tragedy befalls;
this is the home of the saintly,
where the crisis has no hold.
Thousands of lifetimes trapped within these walls,
like the voices of my ancestors,
all broken and raw.
I have encountered the despicable,
and their sinful spawn,
and yet retain the grace of a swan.
Within this dwelling of the peaceful,
the outside storms seem minuscule.
An eternity spent wrapped up in these walls,
like the colors of my heart,
all faded and dark.
I have embraced the horrendous,
and the disgraced,
and yet remain a saint.