Art
On first seeing the Gustav Moreau Museum, Paris.
A room high-windowed,
With paintings everywhere.
I stand, look around,
Feel as if caught in car lights.
Instinct alert
Dazed, dazzled, shocked.
Here, in substance, Spirit
Shimmers in every shade,
Life active in streak and stroke.
Figures soaring in and out of spheres
Light pulsing into canvas.
I climb a spiral staircase, wrought iron, black,
Two more rooms
God grins with glass
He has been waiting, waiting in this earthly paradise.
Spirit made into patterns and coloured harmony,
Lounging about with Light, roving out.
Angels are shown in visioned form
Intellect in mental pictures,
Framed here for Mankind.
Linked to the Christ, recognised,
Each second drawn to Being,
Part of the action
Complete glory.