THE MONK

nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson)

The ghost that walks
These deserted aisles
Shallow face
Sunken eyes
Chalice, incense
Latin verse
Eternity hollow
Forever walks.

In green robes of
The monastrys attire
Where solemn sin
And mythical fire
Lashes that have
Savaged skin
Holy water
Blood drops spin.

To cold and bare
Blocks of slate
Stained by centuries
Imprisoned in fate.
The glassless window
A haunting arch
A rising spirit
Sandalled feet to march.

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