Only Sacristy

The thunder spoke a multitude of pleas.
The congregation never could appease
their mighty god. Their humbleness
seemed strangely odd to him.

Roaring with the anger of the ages,
destruction pulled him high into the sky.
Breathing in the golden dawn,
he spawned another demon to abide
within their midst.

She never knew his love could turn
into a living hell. Hark, the knell
of church bells tell the tales.
The lightning struck. The cross
over the belfry set on fire.

Flames caressed an endless suffering.
Black, the ash amid the cinders.
Glory flashing smoke into the sky.
And suddenly, they knew the reason
why they feared him so.

Cool night-winds blow. The afterglow
was not enough to warm their souls.
Shivering, they hid within the trees.
And there, by chance, the magic
of the woods became
their only sacristy...

? Michaelette ?

5/7/2003
Copyright© 2003 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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