La Sagrada Familia
Alighting sweetly from the several stories above,
Each saint takes his turn swaying in the
Cherished, vibrant, and cheery light
Of the solemn, stained-glass windows;
Filtering the rays of the sun as they tell
The story of the raise of the Son from
The calamity of unknown yet certain death into
The calmness of unbounded, everlasting life.
The great temple stands tall — mighty, yet unfinished.
Seafoam-green shards of light
Dash the ground in a dizzying spell,
While cherry-red drops trickle down from the
Solid, rose-colored treetops
Which provide no shade, for the
Truest light emanates from below the unmoving trees.
Fastened tightly with nails of injustice,
The granite Son shines from beneath the stone.
Spires reach toward the heavens
Like a distress beacon, casting lamentations
Destined to fall upon deaf ears.
Destined to drift upward into the frigid void.
Truth, hollow as the sanctuary halls,
Truth, hallowed as the art of sacrifice;
Nothing good comes without sacrifice.
Nothing worthwhile comes without a paid price.
Forevermore, there will be another block to be laid,
Another brick to be placed, another request to be made,
Another flourish to be carved, another story to be told,
Another light to be shone, and another stone to be rolled.
