The Cloisters

I can almost hear the haunting monastic chants and solemn songs, lost between the rippling currents of the Hudson River. The Cloisters stand, silent upon a nearby hill stone walls and ancient towers are stoic and timeless carrying secrets of the past covering forgotten sins. Echos of voices, Ave Maria and rosaries the fervent signs of the cross commune amongst sacred writings silent prayers and penitent pleas. The tower bells clang loudly ringing in the hours as time slips over the horizon and well cared for gardens. I linger within these hallowed halls aching to listen to those voices from long ago disciplined, dedicated, devoted men who knelt to worship our God Most High, Eternal.