AT CHARTRES

At night the walls are black, with only the flickering
Candles to lift the hovering shadows. Palely
Dawn begins to give the windows a daily
Resurrection. Color claims its victory.

And on those special days when a rising sun
Beams through the bits of glass direct to where
My eye is waiting, a miracle occurs:
The reds explode to giant rubies, the greens

Burst to balloon-size emeralds, the blues
And yellows dazzle as mammoth amethysts
And diamonds. The metamorphosis
Is magic and transcendentally interfusing.

How did the builders know they were setting the scene
For a distant psychedelic mystery?

(156, July 25, 1994)

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