Beneath majestic heights

public footsteps

ring a tapestry of sound.

Time surrenders  here,

hushed voices

slice through space.

 

In ancient plans

the sky has been considered,

clouds float across

ascending lengths of glass

not stained but clear

while high in the dome's  recesses

portholes angle to paradise.

 

Thick with prayers

stone walls are candle-bright

and from the altar

a swinging censer's breath coercive.

In the rising foment

of the moment's focussed ritual

saints hide their heads

in alcove darkness.

 

Amethyst Magazine, July 2021, Editor Sarah Law