Celestial cathedrals,
Roofless above whose light glimmers endlessly:
A brothel for weary dreams
Dazed by the beauty that tickles the soul
And sends shivers down the spines of sailors
In the midnight sea,
Who lounge on the decks of their creaking boat
As it lazily covers the way to candle lit ports,
Where lovers and wine wait patiently for the return.
By Kristofer Koerber
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