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  • Brian M Winningham


Soft golden light pouring Into our sanctuary like honey

Sweetening all it touches

Blunting sharp edges to grace and gentleness,

Blurring clear lines to make miracles visible.

The doors all flung open, welcoming

The air softly caressing, a gentle, healing breeze.

Parishioners on the march, like a children’s crusade,

Led by a Father of Fathers, and Mothers, and Fathers.

Symbols flashing golden in the light.

This metal house of Yaweh, grounded in

This soft gentle piece of earth,

Nature’s counterpoint to all we design.

Gentle, crooked giants, witnesses to ages past, and

Wildflowers and grasses a carpet beneath our feet

Nicholas, our benefactor, supplicant and Saint

We gather together under his name,

To the glory of the names above all names.

Creating a place of giving and healing

A sanctuary of love and faith.

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