woven in threads of brown simplicity
in hooded, brown humility, the solemn brothers marched in somber, sober tones,
their footsteps were but whispered echos upon these ancient chapel stones,
the sacred air was filled with the dust of holy prayers,
drifting round and round in the dappled, watercolored light as if descending heaven’s stairs.
word by word and chime by chime, the relentless, reverent rhythm rose,
as the metered, marshaled voices chanted the medieval, mystic prose,
and by this endless drumbeat, by this very pulse divine,
the brothers of the abbey formed once more, the brown, unbroken line.
the silence of forever slowly settled in upon us all,
as if the souls there gathered had heard a distant angel call,
the heads, they bowed, the eyes, they closed, all thoughts became as one,
and all of life became as candle smoke as we became the living Son.
the moments of the quiet aged into the eternal moment’s peace,
the wars and weepings of a wanting world, they all began to cease,
the cares and cries of a conflicted life, they soon did drift away,
as the brown cloth warm simplicity became known to me that day.
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