
Why? Why are these things happening?" I was
asking myself in prayer, pleading Him for death while
kneeling before an altar ashen with dust, starkly illumined
by flickers of few kindled wicks and some faint stars in
the night sky that shine through a large gap above the
massive church dome...now uncrowned.
The air is filled with the whiff of scented wax and
an incessant aroma coming from burnt incense. And
while smoldered pews were scattered in disarray, not a
single soul remained but a marble life-size carving of
Archangel Gabriel inside the ruined cathedral of Saint
Mary's.
He alone stood guard near the altar, remained
motionless, face pallid with dirt and ashes, while holding
his gilded sword unbroken...a lone sentry to the tattered
statuaries of Mary, the Virgin and her Son, unmoved,
still nailed to his cross.
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