"A Short Poem" ((Inuyoko Mass #30))

"A Short Poem"

by Inuyoko

Originally read in deoch 217 on the 14th sun of the 3rd moon.

((01/08/2026))

Hello, everyone. My name is Inuyoko T’Alveni. I am a Priestess of this Shrine, and a member of its clergy since deoch 53. Last double-moon, we spoke about Sectarianism and Conjunction. Today, I’d like to share a…short story? Poem? That I’ve written. I’m doing this primarily because it is not one of my greatest skills, and I think as Deochans, it is important to try new things, and not be afraid of embarrassment or imperfection. All artists have to begin somewhere, and all acts of creation are a celebration of Deoch’s spark. With that said, I hope you enjoy this brief story.

At the end of a familiar journey, a natural monolith of stone is replaced by an artificial one. Imposing itself upon my view, I stop and admire it a moment. Its concourse seems to heave breath my way. An invisible but heavy force pushes me through the entryway as flesh and sense is met at once with heat and pleasant fume. The brickwork shows unusual wear for such an empty place. I look around as in I walk, not noticing how every step seemed to sink in history’s treads. The space is unassuming, but clearly care is present because along the walls I see a smatter of carnation, rose, and peony, though slightly wilted. A stack of plates and glasses tells me that this place’s hollow visage is a half-truth. A verisimilitude that betrays what clearly one can feel standing in this space. “Amazing,” I try to say beneath my breath, realizing too late that I had spoken it quite loud as my voice echoed back to me from every corner. The heat from numerous sconces and braziers worked to mask that of my flush’d cheeks. This is not a place for shame, or embarrassment. No, stepping into the main hall, all of that was washed away by cascades of blinding light. In that moment I could see that this place was built to celebrate something grand. To illuminate every part of ourselves as if it all is precious. It may not be, but standing here in now silent awe, nothing felt more true. I knelt by a stone relief and read its etchings. I picked through piles of parchment, palimpsests of pretty, priestly prose. I stopped at last before an elegant effigy, looming tall and overlooking all in sight. I bowed my head in silent reverence before leaving some gold coins upon a table. A donation of sorts, to what or whom I do not know. But as I left, I felt inspired. And I knew that I would be back this way again. It felt as though there was no other choice. “I must come back for Mass…” I thought to myself, as I made my way again into that mountain pass.