I will build tiny cathedrals in your name.
Constructing each by hand to be certain that their foundations are sound.
Time may weather them.
It will not matter.
If one falls, I will build another to replace it.
And another and another and another.
At night, I will illuminate them so they may shine like beacons in the darkness.
I shall write you hymns and sing your praises to the leaves, so they can remember.
And carry the thought of you within their veins.
They will spread like gospel when the autumn winds come.
About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.