Light.
It is the first thing
I see as I
arise.
It reveals not
the demons of my imagination,
but the
pews of the cathedral in which I sit.
I find that I am suddenly flooded with
memories.
The origin of which
escape me,
but I dare not doubt myself
as I see images of
winged seraphs
in all their glory,
their divine wrath
entrapping the
beauty
of their good-natured kin.
Forever stuck in bronze and concrete,
the war between
just and evil
frozen in time,
yet waging on for
eternity.
The embodiment of
beauty
is watched by all,
while time
creeps silently into every crevice,
exposing that which is not
true.
The kneeling arches succumb to
atrophy,
while the war cries that had once echoed
are enveloped finally
in a
deathly silence.
In this final moment in time,
the light recedes until
all that is left is
darkness.
A total blackness
that signifies the loss of what once
was.
As I sit alone,
deploring the
loss of the genius of man,
I beseech a place to call
home,
hoping that I may one day find it,
yet knowing that it is
out of reach.