A whispering fiend, with malice soft and sly,
Unravels threads of faith once tightly spun,
Its shadowed claws beneath a starless sky,
Deface the vows to which our souls had clung.

The altar cracks, where once the light was sown,
By demon hands that mock the holy writ,
A chilling wind through sacred halls has blown,
And left the heart of man in gloom to sit.

The hymns grow faint, their echoes torn apart,
As doubt, a serpent, coils within the mind,
Yet still some embers glow within the heart,
A spark divine no darkness can unbind.

Though faith’s grand tower quakes and demons leer,
The soul’s deep root defies their reign of fear.