Pearl Chapel

I bathe the silver stairway

For it climbs into autumn

Speak to the leaves, convince them of promises

For they wash in the falls that are pure

 

We keep the trees, from wedding the light

As it creeps through the branches

For the white, pearly gates in the wood

Are open to beckon the early home

 

The chapel is bare, born from the canyons

Carved out of marble that glitters like starlight

For the falling children of olden oaks

Are swept through the archways into the morning

 

For the sweetness of silence cannot tame the darkness

As it splashes like wine onto faded paper

The candles of wind birth the storms that are raging

That conquer the eyes of the witness

 

It’s a lie to tell the nature that knows you

That keys fall away from the ivy

Twisting like fingers along the pearls that are broken

Whispering the closure is forever

 

For the cathedrals are born from the chapels so wounded

That scars the sky, risen to the wind

For the leaping heart that beats in the evening

Burns the forest, despite its sin