Saints Decay

In hallowed ground where whispers cease
Stands the saint, in rain’s soft grief
A figure draped in shadow's lease
Amidst the world’s withering leaf

With head bowed low, a crown of moss
His flesh a canvas pale and worn
Each droplet’s kiss, a silent gloss
Upon the scars of love—now torn

Around him lies the fading light
The flowers wilting, petals fall
Each heartbeat mourns the creeping night
As silence binds the earth in thrall

The heavens weep for days gone by
For souls entwined in sacred breath
Yet still the saint with steadfast sigh
Holds vigil ‘neath the shroud of death

In puddles dark, reflections form
Of dreams once bright now dulled by rain
The air, a shroud, so cold and warm
Bears witness to this slow decay’s reign

Oh, fallen leaves like prayers unspooled
In dampened earth harbored sigh drawn
A tale of life where hope was ruled
Now echoed like a remnant of dawn

Yet here he stands, in sorrow's song
A monument to all that’s passed
A spirit bold, though frail and wrong
In nature's arms, his fate is cast

As time dissects all things divine
And rain erodes the stone and clay
Remember him, for he is thine
A beacon lost, yet here to stay