Church

Passing under lychgate’s roof of moss

Meandering by other peoples loss

Winding path I walk on through

Past majestic trees of red-berried Yew.

Mighty door invites me in

To ask forgiveness for my sin

Stepping upon cool granite floor

Shutting me in behind closed door.

Not another breathing soul resides

Only the quiet under stone hides

Happy here I take a seat

Clasp my hands, and rest my feet.

Ancient smoke rises in sunlit rays

Shining through multicoloured gaze

Watched through stained glass eyes

As my inner-me begins to rise.

Overwhelmed by silent peace

Bathing in God’s golden fleece

Basking in being alone

So small am I within His throne.

All blackness to me that attached

Begins to drift away unlatched

Pure I feel for a brief spell

Only the good upon I dwell.

Fully restored I rest upon the pew

Passive tranquil thoughts imbue

Church I thank for listening to prayer