Without the Light
Without the light,
all this is nothing.
The gold guilting.
The artistry,
rich colors and lines,
stories of the saints,
of souls broken and raised again,
rosewood confessionals stained by sin,
and shining in redemption.
Without the light,
the marble statues are no more
than another shapeless shadow.
The altar has no meaning, no presence.
All this,
no more than a tomb,
lacking life,
lacking power,
it’s beauty a buried relic
without the light.
About this poem
Could be about church, Could be about people living in dark places. We live for light, or we do not live at all.
The picture was taken in Rome.
Tom
