Upon reading John Mark Reynolds’ essay# #“The Shattered Image of the Thirteenth Century”#
We’re born as exiles in a castle’s ruins And learn to play among long-fallen stones We hold up shards of glass against the sun Delighting in the colors falling through
Pendentives now bear up only the skies Above twelve empty niches in a row A prophet-wind sighs through an upper room And fallen leaves decay on shelves collapsed
A gone-wild garden roams along the walls And through an ancient arch an apple falls