I worship in the alcoves
Shelves bowing, laden with stories
Of life, of loss, of love, of friend and foe
Of man himself, fragile and enduring
I worship in the dark room
Seats in neat rows
Darkness illuminated...and darkened
by the images on the vast screen
I pray with pen to paper
fingers to keys
Creating a past, a present, a future
with stories true and not
My sanctuary is the journey
into the stories of another
words, images, sounds
of life, of death
one comes to know the soul this way
how similar, how different
how limited, how infinite
how delicate, how durable
Devoted am I in this worship
Enshrouded am I in these prayers
Here I find comfort and hope
and misery and despair
The voice of the soul
the agony, the bliss
is found right here
here.... in this
©2016 Nadia Romanov
(image source: Google search)
