Happiness | a Poem

A hallow cathedral, pane's broken
Shatters decorate the ground, a silence
Chokes thick, begs for a broken bell
Its dead tolls dust in craving halls
Where even phantoms dare not dwell

Carved fine, this sanctuary
Calls itself home to none any longer
Still inspiration kindles without watcher
A damp rose trying to catch fire

Little can I say for this place
For its luminescence bathed walls
Though forgotten, still, they are not--
My footsteps within the moonlit halls

Hymns of sirens draw me near
So long as I answer am I its ear
That craven spirit lost to linger
And draw his finger on dusted shelves
In that place
Where even phantoms dare not delve