Such a Soul

There are no wires in these walls, no bare bulbs hanging, no flicker of electricity since 1886. Those windows light what's unchanged since, uneven planks painted, pews, hymnals. Those rising, swaying trees outside cast a shimmering shade within. Shadows shift in a subtle swirl that never settles long. There were surely a lot of words said once, some preached in parable or paranoia, a little bit of kindness and condemnation. Whispers in the back, swinging kids legs kicking till quieted. Curious eyes, don't glance too long in the passing plate, someone gave a lot and you just a little. But I've never seen such a soul here. Silence reigns easy on this tiny chapel, waiting on nothing, quieted and sober as you'd expect an old Temperance Hall. The energy inclines toward restrained. Given freedom to make all the noise in the world, mine drifts low as the light.

June 27, 2025
Phinney's Cove, Nova Scotia

Year 18, Day 6438 of my daily journal.