Where ancient stones whispered tales untold,
A sanctuary, stories yet unfold.
A white-robed priestess, bathed in golden light,
With jewels that shimmered, bathed in sacred might.
Her prayers ascended, soft and low and deep,
To gods unseen, where secrets softly sleep.
The followers gathered, a devoted throng,
Their long hair flowing, where the breezes throng.
Carved reliefs depicted battles fierce and grand,
Of heroes valiant, in a hallowed land.
The temple's walls, with artistry so grand,
Portrayed the legends, etched by ancient hand.
From epic poems, whispered down the years,
Of gods and mortals, drying every tear.
The priestess's voice, a melody sublime,
Echoed through chambers, in the sacred time.
The temple's heart, a place of peace and grace,
Where art and poetry found their sacred space.
A whispered history, in every stained-glass pane,
Of rituals and prayers, that have ever been.
The followers' devotion, a profound display,
In every gesture, and every whispered pray.
Their faith unwavering, through changing times,
In the ancient sanctuary, their souls entwine.
With every sacred verse, and every painted scene,
The temple's glory, forever serene.
A testament to artistry, and faith's embrace,
In this hallowed place, in this sacred
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