The Brightening

Such serenity 
Spreads and spreads
Across these tall
Cream walls, that high
Canopy unreachable,
Those scalloped curves
And ribs
Arcing their backs over
Me and my upturned
Eyes.  There is an endlessness
Held within these
Facing planes these
Wide smooth-angled arms.
The eye bounces from them
Through the portholes
Above my head am I saved:
Those round deep shards of glass
Pierced from quietly breathing stone
Filled with mosaic
Of red and green and blue
Gems glowing in
Gleams thrown from the sun
Dance and daub firebeams of
Crimson, ochre, umber
With golden fingers
Onto my prismatic walls:
Touchings brief and breathless
And dwindlings
As glimmering beams fade and fade
Drain the space to darkness.
A hush descends
As lines intensify, replenishing
The dearth of form
And in a width of angles
Rings and sidings firm.
An infinity of time stasis is
Stepping through this space
At its ease -
Its quiet breathings 
The quiet music that it sings
Stills my quiet loss 
Waiting and warming within
My silence and the soft light
That fill this quiet octagon.
Skin is tingling now
For all is moving into life:
A million motes of dust collect
Themselves together, spin
In curves and whorls before
They settle like an orchestra
Into shape and place
And their chimings begin: 
Small crescendo all gold 
Ringing out like tiny bells 
Struck by tiny hands
Oscillate this night of peace:
A rising chime of golden life
A chime that will not
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