A Lurid Halo Flickering Over Ruined Sanctuaries
A golden wreath in twisted glow,
A light where prayers no longer flow.
The altar crumbles, laced with rust,
Yet still, the embers cling to dust.
The past is writ in fractured glass,
A saint long lost, a ghost held fast.
Yet even ruin hums with grace,
A sacred fire, misplaced in space.
Who lights the flame when faith decays?
Who guards the glow when hymns betray?
For even in a shattered dome,
Some echoes ache, some glimmers roam.
And though the walls may bow and break,
Some flames refuse to dissipate.
For faith is not the stone nor steeple,
But something forged within the people.
A light where prayers no longer flow.
The altar crumbles, laced with rust,
Yet still, the embers cling to dust.
The past is writ in fractured glass,
A saint long lost, a ghost held fast.
Yet even ruin hums with grace,
A sacred fire, misplaced in space.
Who lights the flame when faith decays?
Who guards the glow when hymns betray?
For even in a shattered dome,
Some echoes ache, some glimmers roam.
And though the walls may bow and break,
Some flames refuse to dissipate.
For faith is not the stone nor steeple,
But something forged within the people.
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Background: This poem explores the resilience of faith, memory, and sacred reverence, even in the face of destruction. The lurid halo represents a divine presence lingering over forgotten, decayed places of worship temples, churches, or shrines that have been abandoned to time. Though the physical structures have crumbled, a spectral glow remains, suggesting that faith is not confined to walls or relics but persists in those who once believed.
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