Cathedral

Its cool and dark in here
away from the hurly-burly
quiet and serene.
Flickering candles light up
prayers for the sick and the lonely.

We talk in whispers:
nothing should disturb
the quiet rest of shrouded figures
along the walls

Our footsteps echo
on time-worn flagstones
each inscribed with a name.
You cannot help but wonder
about their lives,
their hopes,
their dreams.

Sweetest of music
floats from the very stones
and heaven-coloured windows,
music to delight the soul
and set the mind to prayer.

Solemnity and quiet joy
mark this place
and a thousand prayers drift
as smoke from the censer,
scenting the air,
sending senses reeling.

In such a place
you cannot help but believe
in the God of your fathers,
for all our fathers lie here,
their sorrows and their lives live on.