Bethel In Vitro

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Religion and Spirituality  |  House: Booksie Classic



  The leadened angels have no flight

But sing within their rich stained altar glass,

Fixed in their window's fractured light,

To make the coloured music of the Mass -

The spun rainbows arching, arcing

Over the stone-enclosed spaces,

Threaded with gold and stitched silver

Marking the body and the mind's faces.

Even the sheltering memory we cherish,

Nesting beneath the soul's broken wing,

Seeks to ascend but fears to perish

In fire which the empathic God will bring.

Golden the voices the Almighty gave -

Ever the silver of our love they lave.


Completing the bridge that leads from earth to air,

Their iridescent ladder is the place

Where worshippers stand awestruck at the stair

Where once the softly treading Spirit showed the grace

Of God to Jacob - now to us.

Then traceries like fans of Gothic lace

Congeal the crystalling song to form the truss,

The bedrock of belief, too strong to doubt -

The stark imperative, where gain is losss.

We taste the music as the Mass is said:

The wine poured out,

The fresh-baked angel bread.

And, though the covenant is cased in glass,

God's life will surge through all that once was dead.


Submitted: November 04, 2020

© Copyright 2020 Charles Lewis. All rights reserved.

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