7

Shafts of light through stained glass

Collide in pools of color

On the cathedral floor;

Motes of dust stream through columns of light

Like tiny technicolor galaxies.

Silence, with its gaping jaw,

Exhales a smothering sigh

Obliterating everything unlike itself.

Eternity lurks in its own caricature

Evading Time in the womb-like cradle

Of the church,

Basking in the prismatic glances

Of stained-glass windows.