The Abandoned Chapel (Poetry)

There is a chapel on the moor
down some half-hidden track
where cold winds shrill a plaintive choir
and echoes answer back

Within, a ruined altar waits
unlit — its surface bare
just passing spirits kneel to pray
seek out some solace there

Its former congregation lay
at rest — each found his grave
no living soul remained to sing
to comfort or to save

The building left to Nature now
God’s modest house forlorn
where once it stood in darkness on
the night His son was born

The hours crept — a star shone bright
and then a million more
that heralded a knock upon
the long-deserted door

A golden figure glowing soft
swept through to spread warm light
wall to wall as shadows ran
no ruin spoiled the sight

Restored, the little chapel gleamed
its candles all aflame
and from the moors a hundredfold
the lost and lonely came

And there in harmony they stood
before the altar’s shine
sharing hope and giving thanks
for gifts of bread and wine

***

Some think it just a fireside tale
a local legend told
to chase away grim Winter’s chill
and cheer both young and old

Yet others swear on Christmas Eve
one spot out on the moor
shines like a lighthouse through the dark —
the chapel’s open door