Under The Cathedrals Memory

In a new age of gleaming white and chrome,
Amongst the universal beauty of a classic Ipod,
Squats the silent rain dashed, slate-grey hulk,
Seemingly hunching his broad sullen shoulders,
Bowing a once tall and proud head,
He loiters in the mid-day echoes of night,

Empty and broken frames hold no coloured glass,
Long since "recycled" for a modern use,
Or smashed by superstitious street urchins,
That danced across the fallen spire to acts of valour,
Inspired by the pressure from their peers
But never will one venture to the silence within,

Because nobody really knows what lives in the dark,
What lives beyond the dusty echo of a harmonic choir,
What anonymous creature could survive under the shadow,
Its presence fills every crack up to the shattered bell,
If a silence could loom, then this was the Olympian,
Under the forgotten cathedrals memory,

Author's Note

Inspired by a song that The Future Sound Of London played