This was an organ in musical rhythms,
It is was church time for the fellow followers,
The grinding of the sound notes dwelled
And stole the air with beauty and awe,
Holy needs had been satiated
In this side of the hill we call worship.
The church had been built for the
Centuries it stood like an enemy to devils,
Shunning them with its top of golden sculpture,
The cathedral was its name now.
The cathedral bellowed and cantered
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: religious