Friday poetry - on Saturday

Sanctuary

Jewel-toned walls. Bright light outside, dim within.
Distant from the busy streets.
Space to be.
Empty seating. Overheard conversations to contemplate.
Space to think.
Art to observe, consider life, watch light playing with hue and texture and form.
Memories come and go. Thoughts connect. Time stills.
Space to listen.

An aroma drifts through, permeating the space.
Breathe deeply, relax.
Baristas joke and smile, the grinder punctuates the hum of the parishioners' conversations.
Here is filling up, drinking down, emptying, cleaning, waiting, talking, being with others, being alone.

Here I can still.
Here is space to fill with thought, space to remain empty and hear.
Space to be.