It was a basilica of marble and light.
\nMy feet hurt,
\nbut not as much as my heart.
\nBeauty is a giant spear.
\nIt is lightning in the eyes.
\nOn the steps
\nI looked across the great plaza,
\nto buses, cars,
\nstreets running like tributaries
\nfrom a glowing lake.
\nPeople wandered,
\nsolitary,
\nin pairs,
\nor like tribes crossing a desert.
\nWhat had I expected to find?
\nThe hollowness of hills?
\nIt was here.
\nThe sound of a shore
\nand the sighing of a sea?
\nIt was here.
\nA bazaar with people looking for their souls,
\ntaking pictures,
\nmurmuring like the wind in the trees?
\nIt was here.<\/p>\n
Or my own unexpected sense
\nof looking behind a door,
\nand finding the faces of mysterious beings,
\nMichelangelo,
\nPeter,
\nthe remote faces of Jesus and Mary.
\nIt was here.
\nAnd they said nothing,
\nletting the words be my own,
\ntheir vision,
\nwhatever I brought
\nfrom the valley of my life,
\ninto this vast church,
\nthe soaring dome,
\nan arcade of hope
\nof unquenchable thirst
\nin stone, paint, mosaic,
\nshowing the arms of God
\nlooking for his children
\nlike a father,
\nhopelessly in love.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
It was a basilica of marble and light. My feet hurt, but not as much as my heart. Beauty is a giant spear. It is…<\/p>\n