Unfinished Odd Story?

Upon the breaking dawn of day,
A church there happened to be in my way.
Not quite literally, I dare submit.
Yet there I saw, off the path was it.
Needing the rest, I decided I’d go,
Though it seemed to hold secrets I shouldn’t know.
The doors didn’t open at first, but after a shove,
It flew open as if willed by the power from above.
Dark inside, save the light from the door,
Wonderment asked exactly if it was odd, or more.
A priest or pastor, I couldn’t tell which,
Knelt at the alter, praying like one stuck in a ditch.
I thought he was mad; praying so hard was he,
That when I approached him, what he saw I hoped to see.
Upon the sounds of my step, he turned on tail,
And my! That man was surely pale.
A wicked grin set upon his face,
Uncomforted I felt, standing in place.
He came forward and grasped my shirt,
The words he spoke so filled with hurt.
“As a simple preacher, I’ll tell you this,
That girl’s got a soul like a black abyss.”
Up over his shoulder, I saw her move.
Something wicked, like a tricky dance groove.