Strife

When storms do break and heavens weep
The cathedral spire wakes from sleep
A shadowed lance, it cleaves the rain
A hymn in stone through joy and pain

The clouds, like mourners, gather close
Their veils of grey a most solemn host
And through their tears a fleeting gleam
The spire ascends, a holy dream

Each droplet strikes with fleeting grace
A silver path on sacred face
And shadows twist in trembling flight
As rain and dark in union write

The gargoyles grin, their visages stark
In interplay of light and dark
While rivulets on leaded pane  
Reflect the storm’s discordant strain

O fleeting light! O shrouded form!  
A testament to fleeting norm
As shadow yields to rain’s caress
An ode to time’s unbound finesse

So stands the spire through tempest's wrath
Its steeple carving heaven’s path
A canvas where the shadows play
And rain anoints the stones with grey

Through every storm, the sacred thrust
Defies the earth, defies the dust
A dance eternal, wrought in flame
Where rain and shadow know no name