Iglesia Solitaria

The sun continued the daily journey from east to west, and began slipping down below the distance mountains. As it dipped below the horizon the sky transformed from a beautiful blue sky to a sky extraordinaire: it was full of pinks and purples of every hue imaginable. The landscape was awash in color, and the serenity of the night began to take hold.

Yet the small church at the foot of Black Mesa had no one to share the evening ritual with. Its doors remained locked, and no one was about–the church was truly alone. The crosses in front of it lit up with the most ethereal white imaginable: almost glowing from within they stood out against the falling night, a stark contrast. Small, seemingly forgotten, the church began to fade into the night as the sky lost its color. But just before the night stole the last of the day, a small dove rose up from the church and into the sky.

The church, as it all turns out, wasn’t as solitary as it first appeared. Instead, it was a sanctuary, a safe harbor and a place to rest. As the dove faded into the distance, the church stood fast against the night and the crosses glowed even brighter. Lonely and solitary once again, but only for a short while. Only for a short while.

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