Cathedral Glass

Raised from this mortality to a state of immortality

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You look at me—these are matters of faith.

Religion is more than caverns and barns

of stone and folded sheets. More than commands

to be better and bolder and quicker to drop

to the floor in broken prayer.

There are no churches here—

religion is a matter of physics or gravity.

You cannot avoid it. Cannot avoid God.

Stolen story; please report.

Religion runs down like water and air.

You must swim in the ocean.

You must breathe on the land.

Religion is love, not the stark and crooked

shadow of fear. Religion is knowing God,

eager to show him your secret ways

and dreams and humble sketches and words

like a child thrusting a stack of worn, stapled paper

in your arms—Read this. What do you think?

Religion is mingling with the dead,

knowing they are just as alive as your enemy,

who you cannot help but love.

The universe will be our chapel,

the nebulas and flash of stars our stained glass.

The planets will be our sacrament.

We will commune with other worlds,

and religion will burst with the joy

of returning home.