rite ritual catholicism and doing lenten penance

i see the look in your eyes
your wonder
your confusion
a world of disbelief and awe
the tumbling of a heart

we walk through this world
as ghosts
too often
you and i -
we wander the same paths
regardless of the year
or the company
hoping for meaning
but finding it barren
or abandoned

we are relics
of a time
long past
our crusty views
emblazened in our very speech
we are champions
of long silent corridors
and saturday trading until one
of books and pipes and
evensong
of an unspoiled countryside
which both nutured and healed

silent conversations between friends

those days are
gone

or

is it merely me?