Cathedral, by F. F. Teague
Why do we seek to know divinity
and cloister our divine in labelled walls
along with hymns of grand ubiquity
whose echoes prowl confined in airless halls?
What greater glory than the first design:
a grove that raises limbs towards the light,
a gentle rivulet that serves as shrine,
while joyous birdsong flows from day to night?
No teaching seat squats boldly on this floor,
whose aisle is just an earthy forest track:
here untold beauty lifts the soul to soar;
the eagle bears no scripture on her back.
Draw near and smile and, if you wish to, sing:
Let happy nature ever reign as king!
F.F. Teague (Fliss) is a copyeditor/copywriter by day and a poet/composer come nightfall. She lives in Pittville, a suburb of Cheltenham (UK). From 2014 to 2016, Fliss was Poet-in-Residence for Happenstance Border Morris; and she has had some success at The Mighty, an online community for chronically ill persons. She entered the Spotlight at The HyperTextsin July this year and has remained there ever since. Her other interests include art, film, and photography.
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