The Sound That Matters Most
It’s always the last of the booming sounds.
That, which ricochets slowly into the tunnel of
Our souls —that hard, wavering metallic
Whisper —wafting high and solemnly — from the belfry,
Floating through the spikes of Gothic sails,
Frightening gargoyles and hushing magpies,
On its way down to the audience of Sunday.
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