88

My Church

id

In the splendid cathedral of silence, I worship,
Where the clouds are the spire and the soil is the nave.
Mountains, monumental titans of time, therein lie my church.
With sculpted granite and marble, riveted by sapphire rivers,
And ornamented with glacial glass that glimmers with the nascent dawn.

I love, oh, the graceful grandeur of their snowpack
Like a white robe spread o’er the shoulders of the steadfast saints,
Engaging in an eternal dance with the tempering sun.
Each crystal, a prayer whispered in the vast nave of nature,
Bowing humbly to the sacrament of seasons under the gaze of the eternal stars.

Towers of stillness in the frenetic rhythm of the world,
Oh, the saintly silence of their sepulchers and sanctuaries.
A silence not of absence but of presence,
Touched by the hymns of the wind and the incense of pine.
A silence so profound it roars with sublime sermon.

The glaciers, steadfast in their worship, the choir of my church,
Sing the ballad of ages, of the sun and the snow,
And the inexorable river of time carved into their form.
They weep, yes, they weep with the waxing warmth,
Their tears filling the baptismal fonts of the valleys below.

In the heart of their undulant solitude, my spirit soars,
Cresting over jagged crests and through curtain of clouds.
Each ascent a pilgrimage, each summit a sermon,
A testament to the tireless tread of the human spirit
And the humbling, holistic hymn of the cosmos.

This is my cathedral, my church, my chapel.
Under the vault of the boundless sky, cloaked in the wonders of the wild,
I feel closer to the divine, to the vibrant veins of existence.
Layer upon layer of geologic genuflection,
Unveiling an ageless tapestry of tangible truth and transformative transcendence.

Here, I find solace and enlightenment, communion and contemplation,
A benediction bestowed by the brush of the breeze, and the song of the stone,
In the ceaseless cycle of snowy shroud and verdant veil.
Mountains, my sacred sanctum, my solace, my solitaire,
The sermon of the sublime scribed in snowpack and glacier.

My church, my cathedral, my silent seance under the kaleidoscopic cosmos.


SHARE

You Might Also Like

The Wishing Well Wonders
poem
The Wishing Well Wonders
In the heart of the woods, Friends find a wishing well’s lure. Dreams bloom, wild and free, But...

Feeling inspired? Channel it into writing your own unique Poem!

SHARE
LINK

AI for anything you can dream up

Create an account for free to join our growing community of creatives and never lose what you create with our game-changing AI

AI for anything you can dream up

Create an account for free to join our growing community of creatives and never lose what you create with our game-changing AI

It's Ready!

Our AI+ your imagination really are a perfect match. We can't wait for you to read this!

Can’t interrupt your creative flow? No problem! Your creations are always saved in your profile’s most recent activity and your notification feed.