Sacred ground. A holy place.
Quietly reserved for longing souls.
The troubled. Lost. And indifferent.
From all over, their quest
Leads them there.
They Bow. Pray. Weep. And wait.
They scribble prayers on tiny sheets,
Then fold and tuck them in tiny cracks
Along the sacred wall.
Countless strangers have ventured there.
And countless more will come.
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