Fit for Purpose

There’s a church near where I live. I’ve been inside it.

A building fit for purpose, there’s no doubt.

But the majesty inherent in its structure

Is less evident within than without.

The inside has an empty sort of feeling,

Like the ghost of Christ passed through there long ago,

Visited the patrons for a moment,

Then left before his spirit chanced to show.

 

It strikes me as I look upon this structure,

It’s an edifice to god he doesn’t need,

Though wondrous in design, it seems so pointless,

If the wonder doesn’t stretch beyond to feed

The majesty and awe that does surround it,

Created by a hand beyond the man,

It feels like somewhere we have missed the message,

Built the tower but somehow not to plan.