The cobwebs are many,
Sticky and determined
They secure the unused in place,
Skillfully trapping the haunted
Reminders of what has been.
Covered in tendrils elusive,
Forgotten but not removed,
They beg restoration
Like a dusty cathedral’s
Glass stained with memories.
Guarded by the subtle ward
They remain untempting
Yet in time we are drawn in
By the need to cleanse
And discover anew the forsaken.
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