A train whistle wails in far distance
Rises to crescendo
as pipe organ, the cavernous hall
This solo act
drowns the choir
as grey souls stare silent
from their gilded pews
Swallow sermons whole
Dole out the word piecemeal
to none who would listen
Faith like the whistle
is only assumed
It’s source unseen,
yet we know their existence
from tracks left behind
