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.


PHOTO CREDIT : ANITA JANKOVIC
Bookmark (0)
ClosePlease loginn

 

Affiliate Disclosure: Some of the links or advertisements in the wordket website are affiliate links or advertisements, meaning, at no additional cost to you. We will earn a commission, if you click through and make a purchase. Thank you 🙂

Leave a Reply

You May Also Like
Read More

Euphoria

You laughed when we suffered, celebrated in our distress. Those little games, as if we didn’t see? Awaiting…
Read More

Virtual World

The edge of the green wave whitely doth hiss Upon the wetted sand. I look, yet dream. Surely…