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Emerging from a doorway shadow 
   Through thick air - sweet with incense - 
Comes a dark figure dressed in a robe 
   To be near the altar in silence. 

The trappings pierce the dark with gold; 
   Upon him fall the eyes of those saints -
Portraying the centuries of old -
   And every breeze makes them shift shape. 

His fist is clenched over his rosary
   As he mutters a prayer of small sound. 
The peace is sacred and momentary 
   And it speaks to a heart as cold as stone. 

Over the ghostly flames of candles -
His vacant eyes go up a tower
   And he thinks he hears
   That which shrills
The Bells - the Bells of San Xavier. 

As his prayer hovers in the smoke -
   He remembers priests who've come and gone
And there lingers a bitter hope
   To join them and the angels among. 

He struggles against purgatory
   That curses him for reasons unknown. 
His life on Earth was exemplary
   But God has not yet called him home. 

Visions of yesteryear play back
   And thoughts of one woman remain. 
Surely loving kindness is not bad. 
   He wonders if his life was in vain

Then shaking off the feeling of sin -
Returns the passion by which he sware
   And with that spirit
   Fighting rings vivid
The Bells - the Bells of San Xavier. 

Echoes of laughter come down the hall - 
   High-pitched on the ears - innocent -
Broken by children coming through the wall - 
   Dead for so long they think nothing of it. 

They are translucent in the moon's glow
   Like a rushing wind since the fire
Released their essence many moons ago -
   Behind them follows a Sister. 

Like a father who loves his children -
   He draws them nigh with nothing said. 
Their twinkling eyes cause him to grin; 
   He blesses each one upon their head. 

With the cares of his heart made light -
The nun chases them into the air
   As if their flight
   Was called by that night
The Bells - the Bells of San Xavier. 

Once again - he is left with his thoughts
   And he turns to face the empty pews. 
The hope of the church has not been lost;
   The energy felt there is profuse. 

Off to the side - he peers down the transept
   And beholds the glass reliquary
Keeping an effigy and thinks how placid
   This remote sanctuary can be.
 
Again - he thinks of the one tower up high -
   Remembering that it's his soul's bane -
And swears that before the Age passes by -
   He will finish it with a bell someway. 

A wind blows in and snuffs out some wicks
And halts that concern of loving care
   But through the darkness
   Rings true his promise
The Bells - the Bells of San Xavier.
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