Its cold in the Cathedral at night.
Very cold.
The stain glass windows, once bright and alive with the dancing sunlight, have gone dark
and silent.
And yet, here I am.
I kneel at the icy stone rail
Before me, lit by the flickering specters of its candles
Is the altar
The altar I swore to serve upon
And vowed to uphold.
Its all that’s in view now
Even the chalice above it is shrouded
And behind me are even darker shadows
They seem all the more sinister now
Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust
In my heart a fire burns
But what is its fuel?
And does it provide warmth?
O Lord, what am I doing?
