The stars I’ve come to cherish are shrouded in the gray,
And all the doors I will not open beckon me to stay.
And so, one night, I find myself where shadows press like stone,
Lost among the echoes of a heart I thought my own.
The storm came swift, unbidden, the sky a shattered grey,
I ran through streets familiar, yet found no open way.
Then past a gate left open, past stone both old and worn,
A refuge from the driving rain, I go inside, my jacket torn.
The storm came swift, unbidden, the sky a shattered grey,
I ran through streets familiar, yet found no open way.
Then past a gate left open, past stone both old and worn,
I stepped inside for refuge, from winds both sharp and torn.
The friars in procession, their robes a river’s flow,
Their chants a solemn cadence, the ancient words I know.
I stood, unbowed, yet still, I felt a pull inside,
A harmony I’d never heard, a love that cannot hide.
The hymns rose like a current, a song without a name,
Yet in their cadence, something silenced found its name.
The incense curled around me, like whispers in the air,
Its fragrance bore a memory—a longing, now laid bare.
The prayers, once empty echoes, now rang in words of light,
No longer chains of duty, but truth that burned so bright.
I felt the strength of freedom, unburdened by the law,
Not chained by rites or reason, but lifted by the awe.
For reason was no tyrant, nor faith an empty lie,
But pillars intertwined, beneath a boundless sky.
No throne of gold before me, no scepter’s cruel demand,
But mercy in a Father’s eyes, a scarred and outstretched hand.
No conquest in my bending, no ******* in my fall,
But love that knew my name before the first light touched the dawn.
My heart is His to shape. My life is His to guide.
My soul is His to cleanse. My mind is open wide.
The final in the trilogy in Writ
