Two a Cathedral

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Stepping softly over graves
Puzzling ciphers of their lives
Row on crooked row that never turn
Respect and awestruck proof we’re soft
Affection framed by Job’s descendants
Stones tipped and toppled worn down smooth
Soon by God to be no more, Who are we?
Fed with passion as by the breast
Our forever quest to be more than flesh or even stone

Stepping secretly into the church
Stopping short we rest our shocked surprise
This monument to faith built of bones and blood
Its cosmic prism lights the darkest cynic’s heart
Gently reminds we walk upon a tomb
Now a path for tourists to scratch a paper log
Windows to a universe refracting mortal wealth
Stone, glass, beams, an altar, replace a forest’ magic
Feeble stab at permanence waits for Time to take it back.

1989

 

 

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