Loom of accomplishment.
Spires cathedral into the stars.
The sky is scraped.
The clouds bleed.
Sweat and toil fed them.
Love and force drew them up.
They climbed the stairs to heaven.
From the earth a ladder grew.
Wretched pangs die at the site.
Awe in all the heights sustained.
Power subtles its grip.
Breaths stammer and rejuvenate.
Yet one cloud hides their wonder.
A simple night dims built glory.
A breath of His might would sunder.
His grace alone permits the feat.
In all basking a reminder;
Greatest claim falls against Word.
For a sound made all.
Though gloried, walls cannot contain.
Thanks to Paul for this Saturday's inspiration, "Russian Palaces."
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