The Pastor. The Gates. The Crucifix Poem by NurWilmy Francis

Vines, shady ambers, dark alley.
There i stood and is all i see from the porch.
Seems abandoned but occupied.
An old church my resting place for now.
Torn walls shattered windows.
Floors rupture and dead.
Only God knows what's left for me to taste.
Only time will tell me what's left.
Only the moment and space could certainly ensure how my nights are going to be.
An old church my resting place now.
Further and further away i drift from loved souls of the heart.
How further could i go?