Soul in the City

The city of my soul
with well worn pavements
from frenetic activity.
Gleaming glass shopfronts
betraying commercial comforts.
All bright aluminium
and steel structures,
a modernist palace
for my monarch self.

There, at the centre
beats a cathedral heart
like a monastic foundation
in a busy shipping port.
Once loved and tended
but today, forgotten.

The gentle swell of chant
rises from medieval walls
piercing the din of self importance,
sounding like a siren
calling to attention
my wayward mind.

Come, it calls. Come and see
Christ dwells within.

SJMC+
(Written: 4.V.17)

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