They built it to stand forever
A steel town's certainty made stone
created by the faithful
who could not imagine
that their prosperity would ever leave them
or that a fortress built for the sacred
might someday want for worshippers
But the mills fell quiet
the city thinned
the great doors were closed against the cold
until the cold came in regardless
The ceiling collapsed
so did the hopes that rested upon it
that one day this cathedral would be restored
Yet something new was made
in the tearing of that temple veil
between sacred and profane
the holy and the sky
the living and the dead
this place unsealed
in union with the heavens
Cathedral of Ruins is our homage to the beautiful tragedy of City Methodist Church in Gary, Indiana. A grandiose place of worship ravaged by a storm of circumstances.
At its heart is Burned Frankincense, the scent of sacred ritual. With no ceiling left to contain it, its smoke ascends—rising through Cypress and Black Peppercorn, winding through the faded grace of Rose Oil and Saffron, into the warmth of Peru Balsam, and Leathered Woods. The sacred and the world joined at last—a communion offered beneath a roof of open sky.