The sentinel

 Beyond the bethel,

mundane humdrum existence. 

People going about their routines,

rushing with their chores and errands.

Everyone, hurrying for everything.

And the bethel stands there,

watching it all unfold in its lap. 

The hamlet waking up at cockcrow, 

running helter-skelter from dawn to dark,

and finally, 

yawning and slumbering at witching hours. 

At times, the faithful visit the precincts,

gravitating herewards to find peace

in its sacred confines. 

But that's not often too.

And yet the bethel stands sentinel, 

watching our comings and goings. 

Dutifully, the bells toll,

the tradition remains. 

A subtle pause midst all the hustling.

Linking owith Friday Fictioneers

Welfare unto all 

Rab rakha