Stone tracery alert to every breeze,
her gargoyle
sentinel,
her swallows
high,
she raises
steep-stacked towers above the town
like black
gigantic sails in seas of corn,
and floats her
shadow dark between the trees.
Built in the spirit born this festival
when frightened
men saw a transfigured Lord
and talked of
‘making shelters’ --- to hold close
the
ever-changing vision (human dream) ---
this church has
somehow through the centuries
reached
equilibrium;
a sheltered
space
where God is met
and worshipped,
solid, real ---
yet where
unknowing also has its place,
implicit in the
candles’ flame, the stones
dented before
each chapel;
mark of men
glimpsing the
glory with an inner eye.
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