The church was black and musty

The church was black and musty.
The stones, hard and cold.
They whispered to each other
of the woman in their hold.
The girl was bright and beautiful.
Her skin, it had a glow.
And though the darkness beat and bruised,
Her beauty still would show.
In a cathedral forgotten, in a land long lost,
The wolves were all she could hear.
Except for the whispers, whispering ghosts,
The darkness drawing near.
They scratch at her heart, eating her soul.
She feels then pass through her, sensing them grow.
She had great strength but no where to go.
On and on she’s losing her glow.
“Confess,” they whisper, “and fight off our foe.”
She opens her lips, without strength to say no.
A crack is heard. The wolves give a howl.
More spirits awaken. It’s darker there now.
The moons brightest beam doesn’t reach to the floor.
The sound of hooves are heard. The darkness grows more.
Violent, cold, ice piercing, air.
She slowly goes numb till nothing is there.
“She’s gone,” is heard through the pipes like a choir.
Sickening tone wraps through the spire.
The moon is eclipsed. The sky is erased.
But there’s a new whisper, if only a trace.
The hooves have now stopped. The rider gets down.
Only death greats him as his foot hits the ground.
Too late hiss the pipes. Too late hums a bell.
But up the steps climbs the rider, walking toward hell.
At the door he calls out, for it’s barred on each side,
“Let me in! Or is it you have something to hide.”
He takes off one bar. It’s brittle and old.
The wood has grown weak being left in the cold.
His foot hits the door. The woods hear a snap.
He heaves the doors open and enters the trap.
“Where is she?” he calls out to the black.
“Where is she?” but nothing is all he hears back.
He takes out a match and the bar from the door,
Then lights up it’s end, though the light may be poor.
He looks with his eyes. He looks with his heart.
Though this turn to hell, he’ll not dare depart.
Then he sees her, cold as the stone where she lies.
On the alter to gods of truth twisted cries.
A tear from his face falls to her cheek.
Her glow is all gone. Her beauty is weak.
He weeps over her like one in despair.
The darkness encloses, thickening air.
But tears kept flowing, some hit the ground.
Stones started waking. They’re making a sound.
The darkness turned back. “What noise is this?”
They went to the stones and started to hiss.
The boy kissed the girl, said, “Stay as you are.
We’re going to ride long and we’re going to ride far.
We’re going to face wolves and all that is black,
But we’re leaving here and we’re not coming back.”
He took up his torch, and he took up his life.
This was a wedding. She is his wife.
He holds out his light to waken the stones.
Vastness trembles. Time it loans.
They rush to the door, and he sets it ablaze.
More time it lends. Ghosts cry from the haze.
Onto the horse, into the night,
Hands that touch grab on and hold tight.
Hope. Smell smoke waft through the air.
Breath it in friends. Breath if you dare.