I walk between these low lamps as you sleep, the poorwill’s circled notes outside, inviting recollection of endings that preceded this one, and the sound of this space is a single note, sustained in the once noble ruins of this ribbed house of song and sacrament. The stained glass windows that once made a miracle of your face are now clotted with the dust of a decade of storms, and it may be true that there is never time to clean them, but also that I fear the glass has worn to the point that only the dust holds it here, or perhaps that whoever this is, still waiting for the mass, will shatter if those beams should suddenly descend. Again.
Beautiful.
Thank you, Allie. Wishing you a beautiful weekend!
I like how descending beams could have both a spiritual meaning or literal under a ruined church vault. This reminded me of “Bare ruin’d choirs…” and very evocative.
Oh, where the sweet birds sang! Robert, thank you for seeing that. I was pleasantly surprised when those beams showed up. : )
The density made me read twice. And I mean that as a compliment 🙂 Gary
Gary, thank you!
You create pictures in my mind I’ve never seen before!
This is the highest compliment, Alex. Thank you.
You deserve the highest compliments!!