it was a long goodbye. Five weeks ago I wheeled her into the hospital and knew then that she would die there. And now here we are again, wheeling her coffin into the cathedral. She was so worthy of this beautiful place.
I enter, and there’s a draft, a cool one, and I realize I’ve started sweating just before entering. There is some distant hum, like the sounds from the outside try to come in through the walls
The cathedral stood, majestic, peering over the townspeople. Snow tumbled from the pale grey sky above. Silence. ‘What does it all mean?,’ Johnson pondered as he tip-toed carefully past the crowds.
He went to the cathedral everyday. He loved the repetition of mass. The Latin songs, the voluminous amounts of Latin that only the few scholars could understand. He walked miles everyday just to hear the sounds–to feel closer to God. God knows he didn’t feel it anywhere else.
I remember traveling to Italy for spring break. I went to Milan with my best friend at the time. I saw her cry at the beauty of the place. Something I hadn’t seen her do in a long time. She had cried about a lot of things in her life, but never the beauty of something. At least, not in front of me. Now we don’t talk anymore… and I wonder if she cried about that. I miss her.
he was blind; the man, and yet he asked me to describe the cathedral. i hadnt it in my imaginative capacities to do so. i drew it, with his hand balancing on mine, he saw it. i saw it too.
a stark place that i’m afraid of. not her heart. her religion. it confused me, and i’m infrequently in a place of indecision. marry someone who wanted a wedding in a place i despise? someone who believes in god? that’s revolting. but, she does have an amazing rack, so there’s that. yeah, what the fuck – let’s get married.
The cathrdral is beautiful. With high cealings and great artwork, it is a thing of genuis. Prayer. We go there to pray and reflect on this holy, sacred, quiet place.
the cathedral was big and bold, dark and mysterious. like a lot of secrets were held there. deep ones that no one would ever find out, unless someone ready to scramble things up were to find the deep hole buried six feet under found them.
Cathedral is a church. This is the church. Here is the door and here is a steeple. Open up the doors and see all the people. The church doesn’t really have much to do with the word cathedral I guess, but I used to love doing that when I was younger. It made me happy.
the wedding bells chime in the cathedral. What a beautiful day to be marrying the one that you love. The stained glass seems to reflect the inner passion that is felt between these two colorful people. Reverence. Perfection. A sacred union between a husband and wife. A life that they will start together. Ring. Ring.
A foreign concept, makes me think of religion as opposed to relationship. But beautiful and lovely, an old tradition of honouring God that’s lost on today’s culture.
A cathedral of flowers and of sunset and of sky, a cathedral of clouds to remember you by, a cathedral of song cascades over my ears, a cathedral of loves, a cathedral of fears. A cathedral for good byes, a cathedral for hellos – a cathedral of life for everyone to know.
under the ocean
This is a good place I de-stress. For awhile, the word would always plug some sort of insight into my current situations, kind of like Tarot. After that point, it because no different than a diary, just broken into vague snippets. I cannot help but more an issue of my life into each word, and then allow my fingers to explode on it for minute
The little girl entered the cathedral, she could only se the shadows of figures. Each person merely a blur. This was not from the tears in her eyes, but the disease.
She fell to her knees and a lady came to her, wrapped her arms around her and told her, “it only feels dark for now.”
Religion. What a complicated thing. According to almost everyone, their belief is correct. I don’t understand why things have to be made so complicated. I’ll be honest, at this point in my life, I don’t know where I am. I don’t want to think about heaven and hell. I don’t want to think about agnostics and atheists. I don’t want to be stressed about something that I don’t even understand.
Stoic spires faced upwards from its canvas: delicate yet strong, jagged yet tender. Specs of light concentrated, forming a ray that softly brushed against them. From outside, voices could be heard; notes synthesized into harmonies pervaded the adjacent streets, offering warm invitations to curious onlookers.
The cathedral hall was painted a myriad of divine colours from the sunlight streaming in through the glass portrayals of the apostles. Miranda stepped to the alter, the after-hours prayer service was going to help her through these troubled times. She was tempted to pray for her own success or even that of ever lasting life but a prayer has power and she was resolved to spend it on her son’s troubling discovery.
We put power in prayer, expecting it to help us as if it were magic wishes from a genies lamp, but of those who believe, agree that it only works if put to a good cause but that good cause could result in gain down the road.
I never been to a cathedral. I know they are beautiful structures built somewhere in Europe. I don’t know much about them though. But I kind of want to study the older structure and architecture, and put it into my designs.
The elegant, imposing building stood towering over the square below. It’s holy shadow cast upon the scurrying Londoners. Watching everything from it’s lofty height.
The spires climbed higher atop the cathedral, yet I felt no closer to God, just that there was more between me and the place I was trying to go to. My faith is much stronger standing on a summit, yet here I kneel beneath yards of stone.
Religion is my prison. Beautiful and deceptive, would I find God a second time? A memory swipe and it is obsolete. The grass is green and always will be.
I went to many cathedrals in the Philippines. They make me emotional, most of the time. I can always feel a presence of serenity when I walk in. I love the stained glass. I wish I had them in my house. I think that people back then were wayyyy more artistic that they are today. The art work is phenomenal. This thing is almost over..
The cathedral was packed with people and noisy. All around me, there were people with blankets wrapped around their shoulders. They were wet from the rain, their hair stuck to their scalps, their eyes huge with shock and confusion. I searched the crowd, walking slowly from person to person, looking into their eyes, turning them around to see their faces. They were hugging each other and offering condolences for lost loved ones. It was like a horror movie come true.
I was near the alter when the double doors blew open. The wind rushed in, bringing with it the smell of rain and wet leaves.
The cathedral was open and white, full of stained glass and sunshine. The colors mixed on the floor like a rainbow, but it reminded Melissa more of a kid’s puke after one too many slushies and a trip on the Tilt-a-Whirl. She tried not to look at the swirling colors, but they were mesmerizing. She couldn’t help but stare.
The spires rose until they were lost in the clouds. She stood gazing at the massive walls and pondered how she came to even be here at all. He glanced at her from a window high above and ruefully shook his head at yet another victim come to grace the halls of the cathedral.
I’ve grown up in church since I was born, my parents have thought that the grand cathedrals in Mexico were amazing. I thought they were boring and wondered why they all felt the need to show Jesus hanging on the cross. It wasn’t a pleasant place to be. Very boring. Very stuffy. Few people loved God in those places. Few people loved me.
I am dissapointed by today’s word. Cathedral is something religious, and I hate religious staff. I would better write about something more every day. But whatever. It is my first day on oneword, so cathedral. Here we go. Beautiful and terrific. Old and magical.
A boy stepped into the church walking under the pews with a diligence he could not quite grasp. He felt a sense of honor having been asked to join the choir. No one had ever given him praise before, so when the pastor came to him and his father after Sunday school the week before he couldn’t help but to say yes.
The bells of the cathedral ring every Sunday morning, every noon on every beautiful cloudless Godless Sunday morning, reminding me always of the wrong thing. I think I’ll move when I get the chance.
the town boasted a structure that was unlike any other. It stood there like a giant. Gracious and ambivalent. The cathedral was made entirelyout of stained glass, and stood 10 miles high. When one would enter it was almost as though a voice would whisper from the gods.
the town boasted a structure that was unlike any other. It stood there like a giant. Gracious and ambivalent. The cathedral was made entirelyout of stained glass, and stood 10 miles high. When one would enter it a voice would whisper from the gods.
I’m afraid.
I’m lost and these walls only blind me.
When I find you again, perhaps i’ll be free.
When my morals return, then perhaps i’ll gain something.
it was a long goodbye. Five weeks ago I wheeled her into the hospital and knew then that she would die there. And now here we are again, wheeling her coffin into the cathedral. She was so worthy of this beautiful place.
i’ve never been to a cathedral that has taken my breath away. id like that to happen sometime.
bible jesus glass stained glass organs choirs singing mourning weddings old people dressed up easter sunday god
I enter, and there’s a draft, a cool one, and I realize I’ve started sweating just before entering. There is some distant hum, like the sounds from the outside try to come in through the walls
The thought beyond the thought. In silence behind the cathedral, we sit on a step. I look at your hands in mine.
The cathedral stood, majestic, peering over the townspeople. Snow tumbled from the pale grey sky above. Silence. ‘What does it all mean?,’ Johnson pondered as he tip-toed carefully past the crowds.
He went to the cathedral everyday. He loved the repetition of mass. The Latin songs, the voluminous amounts of Latin that only the few scholars could understand. He walked miles everyday just to hear the sounds–to feel closer to God. God knows he didn’t feel it anywhere else.
I remember traveling to Italy for spring break. I went to Milan with my best friend at the time. I saw her cry at the beauty of the place. Something I hadn’t seen her do in a long time. She had cried about a lot of things in her life, but never the beauty of something. At least, not in front of me. Now we don’t talk anymore… and I wonder if she cried about that. I miss her.
he was blind; the man, and yet he asked me to describe the cathedral. i hadnt it in my imaginative capacities to do so. i drew it, with his hand balancing on mine, he saw it. i saw it too.
a stark place that i’m afraid of. not her heart. her religion. it confused me, and i’m infrequently in a place of indecision. marry someone who wanted a wedding in a place i despise? someone who believes in god? that’s revolting. but, she does have an amazing rack, so there’s that. yeah, what the fuck – let’s get married.
The cathrdral is beautiful. With high cealings and great artwork, it is a thing of genuis. Prayer. We go there to pray and reflect on this holy, sacred, quiet place.
the cathedral was big and bold, dark and mysterious. like a lot of secrets were held there. deep ones that no one would ever find out, unless someone ready to scramble things up were to find the deep hole buried six feet under found them.
Cathedral is a church. This is the church. Here is the door and here is a steeple. Open up the doors and see all the people. The church doesn’t really have much to do with the word cathedral I guess, but I used to love doing that when I was younger. It made me happy.
cathedral…
that’s the place where people get married, isn’t it?
hm.
I think they’re romantic, however outdated they’re getting…
sweet. :D
the wedding bells chime in the cathedral. What a beautiful day to be marrying the one that you love. The stained glass seems to reflect the inner passion that is felt between these two colorful people. Reverence. Perfection. A sacred union between a husband and wife. A life that they will start together. Ring. Ring.
A foreign concept, makes me think of religion as opposed to relationship. But beautiful and lovely, an old tradition of honouring God that’s lost on today’s culture.
A cathedral of flowers and of sunset and of sky, a cathedral of clouds to remember you by, a cathedral of song cascades over my ears, a cathedral of loves, a cathedral of fears. A cathedral for good byes, a cathedral for hellos – a cathedral of life for everyone to know.
under the ocean
This is a good place I de-stress. For awhile, the word would always plug some sort of insight into my current situations, kind of like Tarot. After that point, it because no different than a diary, just broken into vague snippets. I cannot help but more an issue of my life into each word, and then allow my fingers to explode on it for minute
The little girl entered the cathedral, she could only se the shadows of figures. Each person merely a blur. This was not from the tears in her eyes, but the disease.
She fell to her knees and a lady came to her, wrapped her arms around her and told her, “it only feels dark for now.”
Religion. What a complicated thing. According to almost everyone, their belief is correct. I don’t understand why things have to be made so complicated. I’ll be honest, at this point in my life, I don’t know where I am. I don’t want to think about heaven and hell. I don’t want to think about agnostics and atheists. I don’t want to be stressed about something that I don’t even understand.
I want to breathe.
Just breathe.
Stoic spires faced upwards from its canvas: delicate yet strong, jagged yet tender. Specs of light concentrated, forming a ray that softly brushed against them. From outside, voices could be heard; notes synthesized into harmonies pervaded the adjacent streets, offering warm invitations to curious onlookers.
The cathedral hall was painted a myriad of divine colours from the sunlight streaming in through the glass portrayals of the apostles. Miranda stepped to the alter, the after-hours prayer service was going to help her through these troubled times. She was tempted to pray for her own success or even that of ever lasting life but a prayer has power and she was resolved to spend it on her son’s troubling discovery.
We put power in prayer, expecting it to help us as if it were magic wishes from a genies lamp, but of those who believe, agree that it only works if put to a good cause but that good cause could result in gain down the road.
I never been to a cathedral. I know they are beautiful structures built somewhere in Europe. I don’t know much about them though. But I kind of want to study the older structure and architecture, and put it into my designs.
religion, beauty, light, peace, history,God, music,
The elegant, imposing building stood towering over the square below. It’s holy shadow cast upon the scurrying Londoners. Watching everything from it’s lofty height.
The spires climbed higher atop the cathedral, yet I felt no closer to God, just that there was more between me and the place I was trying to go to. My faith is much stronger standing on a summit, yet here I kneel beneath yards of stone.
Religion is my prison. Beautiful and deceptive, would I find God a second time? A memory swipe and it is obsolete. The grass is green and always will be.
I went to many cathedrals in the Philippines. They make me emotional, most of the time. I can always feel a presence of serenity when I walk in. I love the stained glass. I wish I had them in my house. I think that people back then were wayyyy more artistic that they are today. The art work is phenomenal. This thing is almost over..
The cathedral was packed with people and noisy. All around me, there were people with blankets wrapped around their shoulders. They were wet from the rain, their hair stuck to their scalps, their eyes huge with shock and confusion. I searched the crowd, walking slowly from person to person, looking into their eyes, turning them around to see their faces. They were hugging each other and offering condolences for lost loved ones. It was like a horror movie come true.
I was near the alter when the double doors blew open. The wind rushed in, bringing with it the smell of rain and wet leaves.
The cathedral was open and white, full of stained glass and sunshine. The colors mixed on the floor like a rainbow, but it reminded Melissa more of a kid’s puke after one too many slushies and a trip on the Tilt-a-Whirl. She tried not to look at the swirling colors, but they were mesmerizing. She couldn’t help but stare.
The spires rose until they were lost in the clouds. She stood gazing at the massive walls and pondered how she came to even be here at all. He glanced at her from a window high above and ruefully shook his head at yet another victim come to grace the halls of the cathedral.
A cathedral is a really big church.
I’ve grown up in church since I was born, my parents have thought that the grand cathedrals in Mexico were amazing. I thought they were boring and wondered why they all felt the need to show Jesus hanging on the cross. It wasn’t a pleasant place to be. Very boring. Very stuffy. Few people loved God in those places. Few people loved me.
I am dissapointed by today’s word. Cathedral is something religious, and I hate religious staff. I would better write about something more every day. But whatever. It is my first day on oneword, so cathedral. Here we go. Beautiful and terrific. Old and magical.
a big building with lots of colorful glass
A boy stepped into the church walking under the pews with a diligence he could not quite grasp. He felt a sense of honor having been asked to join the choir. No one had ever given him praise before, so when the pastor came to him and his father after Sunday school the week before he couldn’t help but to say yes.
The bells of the cathedral ring every Sunday morning, every noon on every beautiful cloudless Godless Sunday morning, reminding me always of the wrong thing. I think I’ll move when I get the chance.
the town boasted a structure that was unlike any other. It stood there like a giant. Gracious and ambivalent. The cathedral was made entirelyout of stained glass, and stood 10 miles high. When one would enter it was almost as though a voice would whisper from the gods.
the town boasted a structure that was unlike any other. It stood there like a giant. Gracious and ambivalent. The cathedral was made entirelyout of stained glass, and stood 10 miles high. When one would enter it a voice would whisper from the gods.
I’m afraid.
I’m lost and these walls only blind me.
When I find you again, perhaps i’ll be free.
When my morals return, then perhaps i’ll gain something.