All the streets lead to the sacred temple
Built by the town’s flesh and bones,
Its spirit, the blood of life freely given.
The secret is tabernacled here
That holds the circle like calling
In a bell. The mystery hints echoes
Like oracular parables of the mind:
There is no choice but to struggle and hope.
Thus, for a moment, being is searching
For some answers here to some questions,
Like For Whom Am I? And the consolation
Of torture is the silence of the river
And the darkness of a lamp. But outside
Is the sunlight that colors rose windows.
[Cabagan, Isabela]
Francisco R. Albano
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/homecoming-2-the-church/
