October

Softly and slowly, the flame dances on the hearth - skipping along the bumps and crevices of the bedside candle, illuminating the room in a brilliant myriad of orange skies and red clouds. 

A small house sits quietly in its seeded place, comforted by the surrounding roots which make their way to the sky, shielding the treasure vault of a family, a couple, a child, a home. 

The silent wind whispers and is bluntly cut off by the hum of a speeding train, making its way to carry stories upon stories of various characters on their path, not knowing their destination yet proceeding regardless. Jars of water transformed into wine. 

Rusty playground swings rest unused in an empty elementary school, hollow yet sacred. 

Old pews find themselves alone in a grand cathedral, hollow yet sacred. 

A dusty book lies in the wooden shelf, unopened, untouched; hollow, yet sacred. 

Restless hearts recline into the security of isolation and retreat; hollow, yet sacred. 

The words rush to form a straight line, elementary school students waiting for the teacher to let them in, to shape them, to mold them, to give them dreams. 

As the doors open, the words are free. 

Free to roam, free to hope, free to be filled once again. 

Hollow, yet sacred. 

AMDG