The mansion of Father looks upon
the empty streets carpeted with morning fog,
as I enter the hallowed premises sans throng,
while the air is filled with sweet smell of pollen.
Roof raise up in supplication of the lord,
king of heaven far away from this gloom.
O behold! the cross in center of the world,
destination of every man in this myriad loom.
As the water holy touched forehead of mine,
vision cleared of inner-eye, eroding my sadness
Lo! I see true reality so sublime,
a cathedral where God beckons in silence.
Hark! voyagers of this mesmerizing mire,
this world is a church open and wide,
where each mould ,a symbol of destiny
lord presides within in unseen glory.
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