Wooden Cathedral

High ceiling

Beams of great elegance

No human could of made these forms

No other cathedral was made of wood

The lively frescoes

Changing

From light blue skies

To night dark stars

Sacred is this place

Heart of an everchanging land

Old as time itself

Unmoved by the triffles of our lives

Ancient

Yet it is too open

Too old

Too great

No other man will come to wander these paths

Other than myself

They are too afraid

The age of these tree trunks

Will veer away any mystic

Any believer of supertition

No walls holding the spaces within

Agoraphobia

Opposed to the other I feel whenever I walk in these age old halls

There is nothing to save me

This is where the wild animals roam

Who will rescue me if a wild animal jumps for the kill

Who will take me safely home?

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