Happiness

A hollow cathedral, her pane's broken

Shatters decorate the ground, her silence

Thickens with the now empty knells

Where even phantoms do not delve

Carved close, the cherubric stonework

Calls itself home to none any longer

Still, inspiration breathes without body

Like a damp rose catching fires failing

Little can be said for this place

For the luminescence along the walls

Though forgotten, still, they are not--

His footsteps echoing in her corridors

Hymns akin to sirens draw him deeper

An intoxication that lusts for more

That craven spirit lost to linger

And draw his hand along dusted shelves

In that place ...

Where even phantoms do not delve

- Art by Andrzej Masianis -