The Cathedral

Cold and uninviting
seeming gray and dark
thinking once on the inside
there would be a spark
try so hard to get a look
not realizing the trouble it took
to build the walls
the callused skin
that protects the tender parts
held within

looking around
the empty pews
a few black mourners
for dying views
high ceilings, high hopes
strong pillars willing against gravity
everything black
everyone sad
mourning for what they would have
should have had
so big yet so empty

lowly, lonely in the corner
weeping with the tears of rain
that seemed to roll off the roof
but every one sinking in
weakening the structure
slow slow slow destruction
seeping to the base
to the foundation
quaking with every drop

a rumble so great
it cracks the surface
releasing the pressure
but visible on the outside
an outcry
walking closer to the altar
on consecrated ground
seeing filthy bloody symbols
with a meaning only profound
to The Cathedral, in The Cathedral
white candle of pure light
dripping red for a lack
many candles alike
all pure in their own

some burning bright
most burning slow and low
but all still burning
stare into the light
burning brightest is a black candle
mesmerized by the sight
sit and wait
for that flame to cease
to die down
but it grows
and consumes even more
the flame is spreading
it reaches out and engulfs all others
they become one fire
burning the symbols and their meanings
burning the mourners and their mournings

The Cathedral is consumed
by a single flame
each candle, each flame is an emotion
that flame is hate
The Cathedral is your heart
The Cathedral is your soul
The Cathedral is you
and you are no more

                            - Dillow