At the Intersection of Perfection

Our spines a-tingling cerebrums a-ringing Sweaty clothes cling and clasp our collective breath, erratic gasps High up a panorama like unto none a celestial heaven under a golden dome Every figure perfect, colors flow and blend Folks pray the show never ends A murmur ripples through the crowd though no one tells what we saw out loud Right at the top, at the intersection of perfection one mosaic missing ~ O! that it had escaped detection Disappointment's discovery stuns young and old 'one mosaic missing' - folks' spirits, bitter cold