In a world where shadows stretch and whisper,
A parish blooms in pixels, soft and bright,
Where words, like fragile lanterns, flicker,
Defying the encroaching, endless night.
Parishioners gather, each heart a verse,
Weaving their stories in this tangled web,
From quiet corners, they echo and converse,
In stanzas that rise, like spume at tide’s ebb.
They craft their hymns in defiance of fate,
Ink spills like blood each byte, each digital page,
Together they nurture, together they sate,
A thirst for connection, a stage for their rage.
Each line a lifeline, each rhyme an embrace,
In the bleakness of screens, they find their reprieve,
Creating a sanctuary, a sacred space,
Where the lost can belong, and the hopeful believe.
In the parish of poetry, dreams intertwine,
Community born from the ashes of strife,
With verses like roots, they anchor and bind,
Building a harbour where imagination’s rife.
So gather, dear poets, in this vast, shared expanse,
Let your voices rise up, let your spirits collide,
In our dystopia’s grip, let your words take a chance,
Together, in verse, we’ll no longer be belied.