Cathedral

Wheeling pigeons; yelling, whistling taxi-guards;

strong south-Easter on my half-stubbled cheek;

beseeching beggars; racing, hooting taxi's;

rhythmic strumming of a sidewalk guitar-quartet;

sudden escape from the heat, the glare, the noise;

lady warden gently, silently shuts the door;

liturgical mumbling in the porch; sunlight-flooded bright;

faithful handful at their midday prayers;

further up and further in; deeper in;

into the gloom, the darkness, the silence;

hard, bare oak on cold, tiled floor;

cool comfort of the rugged sandstone walls;

red roped-off sanctuary, ornate wooden choir-stalls;

towering arches; soaring rafters;

rank on rank of charcoal grey organ pipes;

high wrought iron fence bars our access to holiness;

breathe deeply; drink in the stillness, the solitude;

rest my heavy, weary head on cupped hands;

reveal yourself, show me your hand,

show me you love me, show me you care;

reveal yourself to my family, my friends;

to the seekers, the yearners, the loveless;

show yourself; flood the room with light,

so that we can see you and know you are here.

ten to two; must be going now;

out into the noise, the harsh, garrulous world;

to meaningless meetings and senseless assignments,

while he stays behind, cruelly invisible;

laughing silently.

Or not.