I've studied steeples piercing the sky
As it called to the people to cross
The threshold of denomination,
And stood mystified
By the extravagant architecture
Where I was told
You could be found,
Waiting in solemn patience.
I've seen cathedrals dressed in gold,
Adorned by silver chalice
And stunning images smothering the ceiling
While beneath my feet lay a ruby floor.
Crystal studded windows filtered sunlight,
Icons surrounding me,
And I marveled at all man had constructed
In the name of worship.
Yet, when my eyes returned
To the temple you built,
Filled with paintings
Of praiseworthy blue sculpting
Shades of improbable green,
I knew You could be found
In the breathtaking paradise
You created for us.
So I knelt near the river,
Listening to your pure voice
As I was acknowledged and embraced
By your sweet song,
And understood the red path I follow.
All the tremendous dwellings assembled
Could never compare with
Your supreme gift.
Copyright © Pamela Davison