House of the Lord



I sit on a throne

In a vast empty hall

With nothing but dust

On pillars of stone

Where never a soul

Has dared cross the floor

To converse face to face

In the house of the Lord.


Through countless years or more

Only I have stirred

All the empty spaces

Never broken by a word

Where alleged mortal voices

Are all that linger on

Thinner than a thread

Inside the house of God.


Overlooking garden

My eyes alone have seen

Flawless perfect flowers

Blooming entirely for me

Where no one else has ever

Plucked a rose by the thorn

Then gazed up in wonder

At the house of the Lord.


I’m standing in the foyer

Greeting pontiffs never come

For their conversation

But I’m the only one

Where dinner is prepared

Though dining never done

Even angels fear to tread

Into my house of Love.



All Rights Reserved © July 2016 John J Vinacci

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