Standing, crookedly, at the bottom of this foothill,

Placed temporarily, as space was readied for a higher location,

On the mountain above;

Which never happened.

xxxx

In sorrow, a labyrinth was made around,

Making me more of a destination,

Despite my sad, sacramental state,

I await the attention of the Church who placed me here.

xxxxx

So, I may illuminate their lives with joy,

And change this verse of lamentations.

To one of light.