The dust still sings where candles died, A thousand prayers, all unsupplied. I found the pews half-dressed in mold, Confessions carved in flaking gold. The saints have left, the light withdrew, But echoes keep repeating you. I hum a hymn beneath my breath, Each note a promise made to death. Oh mercy, what a beautiful decay, A choir of ghosts still hums the day. If love’s a wound we choose to save Let me bleed inside this nave. The incense curls like tired sin, It smells of metal, ash, and skin. The walls remember every touch, The silence answers far too much. The sacred book lies open wide, No god, no word, just verse denied. I keep on praying to what’s not there, Because emptiness still needs repair. Oh mercy, let the silence crave, All faith dissolves, but none is brave. I’ll stay until the last refrain My voice, my doubt, my sweet remains.
