Pierre Roustan
1 min readJan 26, 2020
Courtesy: Pixabay

The stone has a story within stories of old,
Ancient and bold with the whispers of wind in the cold
Buttressing Corinthian columns from top to bottom
As the echoes speak to each other in dark corners
And in heartless chambers even darker devils behold.

You realize that all the transepts and naves behave and lay
Beyond reach for reasons unknown with stone-still will
Of the shadows in mystery, tranquility of titan gray,
And charcoal, chimes of the children of the night,
With not black or blight or even the white gold of the day.

Within the arms, bays and vaults explored are stored
More of those stories only the brave can hear of clear calls
Into the pitch walls and stained glass of alien worlds from afar
Leading to the most distant moons, planets, stars,
And potential danger of the deadliest demon hordes.

But this place is home to them, and they come from the horizon
Before the sun rises to reveal those that guard this palace
Of the solstice when winter comes, their only solace
In the sunlight as they mask their might to ensure
None of the darker devils break free of their chains —
Because that is their purpose, the only hope that remains.