The Sanctuary

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The Sanctuary
I never truly understand stained glass:
The flicker flame reflects off red and blue
And other hues of all these Saints and I
Am caught up in the Mystery of Light.
The Light beyond the glass shines through
Illuminating lives I never knew.
Or do I know them better when the Light
Shines through; what does not come alive with Light?
Enthroned in panes just west of St. Louis,
A King and consort beam upon the pews.
But as I look, Saint Seton’s who I see:
A glass lit as she teaches children from
The Word held gently in her hand, and I–
Heartfelt– am where fire burns and never burns

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