You can lay it down
but it won't stay fixed,
nail it to the church door
and some upstart pope
will remove or revoke it.
Late afternoon light
pours, we say, through
the cloister-windows
and washes, we also say,
the millenia-old stone floor.
Light does none of that –
the pouring, the washing –
by its own properties
but through the innocent licence
of a vision given tongue.
In such breezy corridors
spirit takes flesh
on the expository tour:
a guide is as good as
a god – for the short walk.