The Peacock's Cathedral Poem by Keith Koech

We built spires that pierced the sleeping sky,
Composed sonatas for no one but her,
Spoke in sonnets not to pray—
But to be seen. To be chosen.
Michelangelo carved for love, not God,
And Shakespeare's fools wept for applause.
The Empire State, too tall to need reason,
Wasn't shelter—it was a song.
Our minds—bright, trembling, ridiculous—
Are wings without wind—jewels in the mud.
We peck through days in soil and screens,
We dress in starlight just to be touched.
Yet call it greatness when we blush.
If this is mating, let it be divine.
Let beauty be enough to lie.