Where the church used to stand,
stands an old pillar that says:
Love is not a building,
nor is Love something seen,
Love is a gift,
you feel and receive,
in many ways.
*Note*
This particular poem is my favorite. When I wrote this I had lots of misgivings about the “love” that is supposed to be shared at some of the churches that I had been to. This for me was sort of a rebellion against the thought that people could not “love God” if they did not attend a certain church. Thus a church that is now in rubble – and long forgotten, contains a truth that the people who attended the church did not portray, making it kind of an ironic twist.
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