A monastery abbot and his reflections about life
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In cloistered halls where shadows dance,
Neath stone cold walls, in mute expanse.
Monastic life, a somber song,
A vow-bound path, both strict and long.
Within these walls, in chambers bare,
Monks bow in prayer, dispelling care.
The frugal morn, a humble feast,
Breaking fast as shadows least.
The air is still, with echoes chime,
In the pre-dawn, the matins prime.
Their humble cells, a sacred space,
Reflect the monk’s devout embrace.