She creeps down dark halls

that Time has left, deserted,

to echoed whispers.

The cold, stone-smooth floors,

trod on by countless ancients,

could tell kings' secrets.

A door left unlocked

beckons curiosity;

she craves to explore.

The door creaks open;

it swings as for knights of old

or fair young maidens.

Well-worn velvet drapes

barely restrain the sunlight;

she sweeps them aside.

Sparkling light streams in;

Dusty beauty illumined

in spacious chapel.

Pillared arches soar;

the ceiling, high as treetops,

rests on massive stone.

The great wooden cross,

hung behind shrouded altar,

has lost no splendor.

Old pews still sturdy,

she sits and looks up to see

Seraphim o'erhead.

High ancient frescoes

show angels and apostles,

Saints and the Savior.

She enjoys quiet;

Peace settles over the room

like a silken mist.

"Do not be afraid:

I will be with you always,

to the end of Time."