Dark cavern, enormous womb
candles flickering before gold-flecked statues;
the casting of light and shadow
stirs the soul. Somewhere, a deep weeping
as the choir rings out, then silence
carries the silk-strung notes to the ceiling,
notes that caress the mosaic tiles, then penetrate it more, above:
Weep, O soul, not for sorrow but for beauty,
weep out your slow, steady despondency, toxic and heavy,
weep while the gold-candles flick, shadow and light
weep until you are also a cavern,
a glistening womb

© Meisaan Chan