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“Murmurs in the Digital Nave”

— Arqios on PoetryCircle

In the forum’s hush, my cursor blinks:

an altar light against the void,

where words assemble like pilgrims

gathering beneath imagined eaves.

I post my chant—twelve lines of ash,

each syllable a step across the threshold.

Below, your echoes form a quiet choir,

raising benedictions in comment-thread pews.

Here, the circle is a cathedral,

each heart a candle in binary rows.

We confess our stumblings—lines unarmored,

and in return find grace in one another’s praise.

Join me, then, in this liturgy of typed breath,

let communion rise in verse and reply:

for in every line we leave an offering,

and in every response, the promise of dawn.

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