the lonely procession
through this echoing, echoing cathedral,
in these sunlit shadows of time,
upon these stones, these most holy of stones,
I hear the voice of God, sublime.
past rows and rows of stark emptiness,
midst the silence of prayers unsaid,
beneath the towers that make men cower,
Ithis march, this path, I tread.
right-left, right-left, in cadenced pace,
in the order of ancient rite,
six men, their duty now fulfill,
on my journey to final light.