A few hollow souls
Gathered in the cathedral.
The ceiling vaulted over them
With an inversely proported gloom,
Which delved beneath the depths of hope
To abysmal desperation,
Mocking their lives and mores,
And the sweep of an empty tomb.
But we all end up, sooner or later,
Huddled and praying to the unknown god,
Un-shouldering the yoke of life and its baggage
In a coffin that seems very full.
-jenn long
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