Pilgrimage

Pilgrimage
 
Sanctuary torn open;
            arches forming
            in midair;
Spaces to let in Spirit –
 
These become a frame,
            in which to frame,
            the gray existence
            against a gray sky.
 
Somewhere beyond the slate horizon,
            the unseen angels
            flow across the intricate
            limestone cornices,
            into the stair-stepped vault,
            into the depths of shadow,
            past the pools of water
            that mirror the stones,
            and into the crevices of creation.
 
Iron railings close off the entrance to eternity;
            but it is still there, hidden,
            under the colorless rainbow.

I have walked through the ancient spiritual places, the high castles by the sea, the broken monasteries, and living abbeys that always seem to call to me.  I find them, too, hidden in plain sight in the middle of a busy street... like Merton walking in Louisville, I look around and find myself in love with everyone.