Cathedral
Let us become as glass, to let the white light without flame, the Father pass unstained. C.S. Lewis, Pilgrim's Regress
A million windows in a spire,
we are some of us clouded and marred,
some with fractures webbing our hearts.
Those we touch, shard to shard
as distant as those
a thousand panes away,
the gray lead between us
as painful as the breaks.
For centuries no wiser,
we wait,
until the Light rises.
In it our flaws glisten
and we pass through ourselves
to one another,
transparent,
sustained, unstaining.
Let us become as glass, to let the white light without flame, the Father pass unstained. C.S. Lewis, Pilgrim's Regress
A million windows in a spire,
we are some of us clouded and marred,
some with fractures webbing our hearts.
Those we touch, shard to shard
as distant as those
a thousand panes away,
the gray lead between us
as painful as the breaks.
For centuries no wiser,
we wait,
until the Light rises.
In it our flaws glisten
and we pass through ourselves
to one another,
transparent,
sustained, unstaining.