Ceiling swathed in sheer silk,
altar draped in samite,
gold leaf edging the cross
gleaming dull in dusk’s light.
In the empty hush rise
whispers, voices chant song,
bells echo, a child cries.
Outside, the crowd rustles;
a bird chirrups nearby.
As long shadows reach for
the belltower’s top point
the firelight wavers, cracks.
It is almost time.


One response to “Beginning

  1. Pingback: Via Negativa

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