Joseph P. DiMino
9020 N. 11th Place
Phoenix Arizona, 85020
1-602-944-4343
Copyright by Joe DiMino,
who retains all reproduction rights.
ACT THREE: Architects
continued:
A church in New
York City, under construction, on the Upper East Side of the city.
A lot of activity. It is being built in the tradition of the great
Gothic Cathedrals, a project in progress for the past 50 years.
All the stones are painstaking cut by hand. All the figures on
the marble friezes have been meticulously fashioned by master
and apprentice stonecutters. It is a monumental task that has
utilized many professionals and volunteers.
DONOVAN is in a room somewhere in the
interior of the church. He is working on a drawing at a table
in the center of the room. The table is long and wide. Obviously
it is a large work. With many aspects to it.
(DONOVAN):(Talking to himself:)
"No! No! That
will not do!"
(He erases. Redraws.)
"My Christ must
embody the spirit of love--
in such a way--
that even in his poised, outstretched hand
there must be a sense of divine activity--
a sense of divine blossoming...."
(After several more adjustments with his pen, he
exclaims, confidently:)
"Yes! Yes! That's
more like it!"
His room is sparsely
furnished. A small table for eating. Basic cot for sleeping. On
the cold, stone walls are hung drawings of various aspects of
the cathedral. Obviously he has been helping with its construction.
There is a small, electric heater...the room is quite damp. Donovan
is wearing a heavy frock which he buttons to the very top of the
neckline. He shivers...moves about coldly as he works. He pauses,
goes over to the heater and fusses with dials, making certain
it is still operating.
(He walks back to
his drawing table...and as he settles into his art he begins to
sing:)
(DONOVAN):
'What power has brought
me here?
Interrupted such a promising career--
power or quirk of ill fate
has driven me
from the comfortable present
to the arch of a Gothic gate?
Yet!--as I labor...
there is a curious devotion...
lack of fear..
I feel bright as armor
though clad
in the frock
of a sword-less volunteer...."
Soon entirely absorbed
in work, Donovan doesn't hear a knock at the door. And after several,
persistent repetitions that are unanswered, Sister Catherine (Out
of habit, in a simple dress) enters carrying a pail and other
cleaning utensils. There is nothing about her appearance that
would suggest she is a nun.
(Catherine--looking
up...surprised, rattling her utensils still in hand:)
(CATHERINE):
"Oh! Excuse me!
I thought this room was empty..."
(She checks her list--)
"Yesterday was
my first day...
and was given a list of vacant rooms that needed tidying...
Apparently my list has errors--"
(DONOVAN):
"No! Please!
It's quite all right!
You are not disturbing me one bit!"
Donovan rushes over
to the door, to help her in with the rest of her burden. One can
see by his excited body language, and expressive voice, that he
isn't in the least bothered by the interruption. In fact, we get
the hint this unexpected intrusion is welcomed.
After taking the pail from Catherine, he reaches for her hand
to draw her in...
(She pulls away...obviously
uncomfortable with his forwardness...)
(DONOVAN):
"Excuse me! I
didn't mean to frighten you...
Miss?--Miss?"
(CATHERINE):
"Sis.... Catherine.
Catherine is my name!"
(DONOVAN):
"Again I apologize
for my eagerness...
but it's been months
since I've spoken
to someone my own age...
Especially someone so lovely...."
(Catherine blushes...)
(DONOVAN):
"Surely you can
spare a couple moments...
stay at least long enough
for us to be properly introduced?
My name is Donovan!"
Catherine hesitates,
as if she were reconsidering...but politely refuses all the same,
this being a new situation for her, one she has little if any
experience at all with.
(DONOVAN):
"But you see...you must stay!
I mean...please stay..."
(His voice soft and
reassuring--)
"I really am
quite harmless...
and it gets so lonely here--
and as you can see--
I desperately do need tutoring
in the finer art of housekeeping..."
Catherine looks around...and
then nods in agreement. Besides, his handsome face is youthfully
disarming...and after deciding that Donovan is harmless though
a bit impetuous, she tells herself:
(CATHERINE):
('Why not come
in for just a short while, and help bring some order to these
surroundings...
Surely there can be no harm in this!')
Donovan, joyfully
ushers her in. With an awkward clatter, he places the pail of
utensils on the floor in the center of the room. Then, while holding
an upside duster high above his head, he proudly exclaims:
(DONOVAN):
"In your service
my lady...
Point me toward those dusty dragons...
and my swift sword
will show those demons little mercy!"
(Catherine smiles...the
first relaxed expression she has thus far exhibited.)
(DONOVAN):
"You have a beautiful
smile...
Why do you hide it
behind such seriousness?"
(Catherine walks over
to Donovan and reaches to take the duster form his hand:)
(CATHERINE):
"Somehow I think,
more will be accomplished
if I go about this fierce campaign
all by myself!"
Donovan is much taller
than Catherine. And as she rises on her toes to reach the duster,
she loses balance, and to keep from falling she is forced to brace
herself against his body.
Time is suspended.
(DONOVAN):
"But that would
be inexcusable of me...
to have you do all of the work
by yourself...."
(He appears captivated
by her innocent beauty--)
Catherine also finds
herself speechless...lost in his searching eyes.... One gets the
first impression, that she is definitely attracted to him.
There is an awkward silence between them. Her seeming to yield
even closer into his body.
As Donovan slowly lowers the duster into her petite hand, for
the first time he appears unsure...lost for words....
Catherine--in control--stepping back with duster in hand:
(CATHERINE):
"I really don't
mind cleaning alone.
Besides, your work is far more important...
and, in fact
would greatly benefit
from a lack of distraction."
Donovan reluctantly
nods in agreement.
But back at his art table, he appears to have little success with
concentrating.
Catherine attempts cleaning, but plainly her mind is elsewhere
also.
Unable to keep his eyes from Catherine for any length of time,
Donovan glances up from his artwork. He is embarrassed when she
catches him...and quickly hides his interest, pretending to work,
hoping she will not become uncomfortable and leave.
However, he soon comes to realize that Catherine is guilty of
the same preoccupation with him, as she quickly looks away, after
having been caught in a similar act.
Follows several more comical repetitions....
More concerned with Catherine, than what he is doing, Donovan
clumsily knocks over a jar of soaking brushes, the fluid spilling
onto the table and over his drawing.
(DONOVAN):
"Good lord! Now
look what I have done!"
He scrambles about
the table, trying to find something to blot with.
Catherine comes to his rescue with a dry rag.
But Donovan seems more interested in watching Catherine, than
saving his work, as he stands aside while Catherine hastens to
sop up the runny fluid. She is aware of his infatuation.
(CATHERINE):
"There! I've
done the best that I can...
And there really doesn't
seem to be too much damage."
(DONOVAN):
"Indeed--you
have come to my rescue again....
In truth--I'm beginning to wonder
how ever in the past
I managed to survive
without you?
Besides--it is only a sketch for the main mural,
and I really shouldn't have gotten
so upset."
Catherine looks again
down at the drawing...and for the first time has a chance to digest
its content.
(CATHERINE):
"Why--it's beautiful!"
(DONOVAN)(stuttering:):
"You are...I
mean, it is?
Do you really feel there is some merit?"
(CATHERINE):
"Merit!--You
should have more faith
in yourself.
This is good.
Very good.
Better...
It is magnificent!
The light!
The gentleness!
This is the Christ
whom I know and love in my heart.
And feel loved by....
Yes loved...and not judged."
(A brief silence,
as Catherine travels deeper into the drawing.)
"You must be
very close to him."
(DONOVAN):
"Him?"
(CATHERINE):
"Yes--Him--the
Christ!
To see Him so clearly,
you must have a personal relationship with Him--
Your interpretation...
wonderfully filled with living presence."
(DONOVAN):
"If only I could
be sure?"
(He bows his head,
as if defeated.)
(CATHERINE):
"I don't understand?"
(DONOVAN):
"Nor do I, Catherine--nor
do I!
...understand so little of what has happened to me
over the past several months...
...what has caused my once sturdy foundation
to crumble beneath me
like a child's poorly placed blocks...
leaving me battling with fiery shadows..."
(CATHERINE):
"But you're here...helping
to build
the cathedral...
surely you have no doubt
as to its importance
and the sanctity of your labor?"
(Donovan--looking
at one of the architectural drawings on the wall--)
(DONOVAN):
"If only I could
be sure?...
the little boy could be sure?...
with the church's blood beneath his feet...."
Catherine walks up
behind him...places a compassionate hand on his shoulder.... Instinctively,
his hand reaches and comes to rest upon hers, yet he turns only
halfway toward her, appearing somewhat ashamed to face her, his
downward gaze revealing an emotional state.
(CATHERINE):(Catherine begins to sing--the
music, soft--her voice hauntingly serene:)
"Listen! Listen!
Listen!
to a story
about an orphan child...
and good sisters...
and a small village
very far from here:
a story about a child who took a vow
out of loneliness and fear..."
(Donovan is entranced
by the music of her words...not fully understanding the significance
of the meaning, but somehow aware that Catherine is allowing him
into the privacy of her being:)
"a child who
grew to wander,
at night, through the ripening corn in the field.
If she shed her armor
and chose a star
would its light become her shield?"
(Donovan turns toward
Catherine, to look upon her face, beautifully alive with reflected
candlelight...as she continues her sensitive tale:)
"Listen! Listen!
Listen!
each of us
has a hidden voice...
dark in silence;
far from light;
until we make a choice.
Then it speaks to us--
its language not words
but burst of torch-like flame--
daring us
to write with fire
(one by one revealed to us)
eternal letters of our name...."
Follows a brief silence,
while they remain staring sympathetically into each others eyes...
(DONOVAN)(DONOVAN answers her soul--the
same haunting melody:)
"At times! At
times! Still times I've heard
a fleeing beam of light:
not dying
in the distance
but born again of night--
it sings, it sings, of mystical things
dark and yet so bright...a"
(They join hands
and face the audience--DUET:)
"Listen!
Listen! Listen!
Each of us has a voice--
dark in silence;
far from light;
until we make a choice:
and then it speaks
its language not words
but bursts of torch-like flame,
daring us
to write with fire
eternal letters of our names..."
(Donovan, looking
deep into Catherine's eyes, bends to kiss her. But, when she seems
to be yielding to his passion, abruptly she pushes away:)
(CATHERINE):"
"I can't!
(DONOVAN):
"I don't understand?
I have never loved before
with such passion...
so deeply...
every fiber of my being
calling out to you..."
As he reaches to embrace
Catherine, to draw her near, she turns away....
He stops...shakes his head in disbelief...
(DONOVAN):
"How can I be
wrong, Catherine,
when heaven has never felt so near?"
(CATHERINE):
"There is something
I must tell you..."
They are interrupted
by a knock at the door...
Donovan hesitates to answer, thinks to pretend there is no one
inside; but the caller is persistent, and clearly, he reasons,
as he gazes questioningly at Catherine's troubled demeanor, that
whatever was on her mind she would rather pursue it at a later
time.
(DONOVAN):
"Enter..."
In steps the PASTOR
(FATHER MARK), and BISHOP LACKWOOD.
(FATHER MARK):
"This is Donovan,
the young architect,
whose talents I've bragged to you
so much about, Bishop.
Since he has come to us
the construction of our cathedral has moved along
at a miraculous pace.
We are indeed grateful to God
for leading him here--seeking, so Donovan has told us...."
(BISHOP LAKEWOOD):
"Seeking, you
say, Father?"
(FATHER MARK):
"Yes, indeed,
Bishop!
Seeking! And we all pray,
it is found--what he has been searching for--
in the divine foundation
of our sacred cathedral...."
The Bishop now turns
his attention to Catherine's pensive presence.
(FATHER MARK):
"And this is
Sis..., I mean, Catherine--"
He almost gave away
Catherine's secret.
(CATHERINE):
"It's all right,
Father. Sister Catherine!"
(She kneels and kisses
the Bishop's outstretched hand.)
The Bishop does a
double take: First looking at Catherine's attire...then at Father
Mark...then Catherine's attire again...and back to FATHER MARK,
once more, for an explanation.
FATHER MARK studies
Donavan's aghast expression.
(FATHER MARK):
"I'll explain
later, Bishop."
Donovan attempts to
meet Catherine's eyes with his, but she avoids him.
Changing the topic, the Bishop crosses the room to the wall where
Donavan's drawings are hung, and admiringly ponders the various
blueprints and complicated sketches for the cathedral.
(BISHOP LAKEWOOD):
"Magnificent,
isn't it!"
And now glancing down
at the table, he begins to analyze Donavan's sketches for the
chapel murals.
(BISHOP LAKEWOOD):
"Not only a talented
architect, but a very gifted artist as well!"
Donovan appears nervous,
unsure of himself, and his talent; and seems fearful of the Bishop's
reaction to his work, for if displeased he could put an immediate
halt to the entire project.
(DONOVAN):
"Thank you for the compliment, Bishop."
Bishop Lakewood continues
to scrutinize the drawings, beyond their obvious beauty and deeper
into the subject matter:
(BISHOP LAKEWOOD):
"But I must confess--though
your figures
seem to embody
a light, indeed, life all of their own--
yet, I find myself somewhat disturbed:
For instance..."
(He points to a section
of drawing.)
"The figures
here, surrounding the Christ...
seem to emanate light
equal to our divine Lord's."
(FATHER MARK)(distressed):
"I had the same
criticism, Bishop!
Donovan, at times,
is too reckless with his interpretations;
and for our cathedral
this just will not..."
(Bishop Lakewood,
interrupting)
{BISHOP LAKEWOOD):
"Of course, were
those not His own words?
'See these miracles I do...you will do even greater,
for I go to the Father...'"
(FATHER MARK)(clearing
his throat.):
"Yes. Yes. Exactly,
Bishop!"
Father Mark aggressively
mobs his forehead with a handkerchief taken from his robe.
Catherine seems alive with excitement. She senses how much this
would mean to Donovan, to be permitted to paint the sacred murals
in the main chapel. Forgetting all else, for the moment, she slides
discreetly closer to Donavan's side, to give his hand an encouraging
squeeze.
(BISHOP LAKEWOOD):
"However!...this!..."
The Bishop shakes
his head from side to side. Father Mark again begins to mop his
forehead. Donovan and Catherine, still with tension.
"The people listening
to our Lord speak--
those on the hillside...and those seated on the rocks--
if one looks at them as a group and not individuals,
their combined image is that of a cathedral;
see here--the towers; and here--the bells...
Not the people, but Christ is the substance of the church!--
its body! We!--the guardians!--have a sworn duty
to protect the purity of that foundation!"
(FATHER MARK):
"Exactly! My
objections also, Bishop!
No!--this will never d..."
(BISHOP LAKEWOOD)(Interrupting):
"Then again,
do not the scriptures also tell us,
'Know ye not, ye are the temples of the living God?'
Is that not so, Father?"
(FATHER MARK):
"Your deep understanding
of the mysteries
continue to be a source
of inspiration to me, Bishop."
(Father Mark lets
out a long sigh of relief while putting his handkerchief back
in his robe.)
'Know ye not that
your body
is the temple of the Holy ghost,
which is in you.'"
(BISHOP LAKEWOOD):
"The Gospel of
Matthew, Father--I believe?"
(FATHER MARK):
"St. Paul, Bishop. His letter to the Corinthians."
(Then, Father Mark
not wanting to disagree with the Bishop--clearing his throat,
appearing less certain, adds:)
"However, Bishop,
your memory in these matters
is generally impeccable; better I reserve judgment
for the moment."
(BISHOP LAKEWOOD):
"No need, Father--
I'm certain you are correct.
We know there is only one
who is impeccable in all things:
and compared to Him
all of us appear
considerably dimmer."
(After thought.)
"Besides--anyone
can make a mistake."
Father Mark surprised by the uncharacteristic admission.
(FATHER MARK):
"Yes--yes; of
course, Bishop."
(BISHOP LAKEWOOD):
"Come, Father--don't
look so surprised!"
(FATHER MARK)(Awkwardly clearing his throat):
"Er...er!"
Then to everyone's complete surprise, the Bishop exclaims:
(BISHOP LAKEWOOD):
"You will begin
to tomorrow!"
(FATHER MARK):
"I Beg your pardon,
Bishop."
(BISHOP LAKEWOOD):
"Along with my
memory,
has my ability to speak clearly
also deserted me, Father?"
Bishop Lakewood, turning
to Donovan:
"That was your
intention, wasn't it, young man...
you did want the honor of painting the chapel murals?"
(Donovan appears overwhelmed
by joy)
(DONOVAN):
"Yes!--or course,
Bishop!"
He and Father Mark
had expected considerably more trouble convincing the Bishop.
(BISHOP LAKEWOOD):
"Come, Father--don't
seem so surprised.
I suspect you have had
a lot more to do
with this outcome
than you are letting on..."
(FATHER MARK)(Father Mark--clearing his throat):
"Er--er."
(Humbly Adds)
"If this is your
wish, Bishop,
I'm certain that Donovan
was being prepared for this mission
long before any of us
were aware of it..."
(BISHOP LAKEWOOD):
"I had better
be careful, Father,
or you will have my job soon..."
(FATHER MARK):
"Er--er."
(Bishop Lakewood--smiling
fondly)
(BISHOP LAKEWOOD):
"Relax, Father!"
Donovan, ecstatic,
turns to embrace Catherine, but respectfully stops as the reality
of her being a nun for the first time settles with a thump in
his heart. He tells himself softly:
(DONOVAN):
"How can I feel
so sad
while at the same time
be filled
with great joy?"
Catherine uncontrollably
had started for Donavan's arms, but caught herself in time--however,
not before body language had given her away. The Bishop with a
tacit look again appeals to Father Mark for an explanation.
(BISHOP LAKEWOOD):
"I know, Father.
Later."
The Bishop and Father
Mark excuse themselves, leaving the room. Catherine indicating
that she will be along shortly after gathering her utensils.
The haunting melody of "Listen--Listen" begins--progressively
rising in intensity.
While Catherine gathers her utensils, Donovan follows her around
the room. He begins to sing:
(DONOVAN):
"Listen--listen--listen...
to the great joy
and sadness of my heart;
to behold a light
so precious,
only destined to part.
To think this Spirit of love,
filling me
with an endless flow,
while my dearest source of inspiration
is also
my rival my foe."
(As Catherine starts
for the door, he reaches for her hand.)
(CATHERINE):
I've taken a sacred
vow!
(DONOVAN):
"While that vow
was the voice
of a young woman,
it was the orphan child who was speaking--
alone...frightened;
surely, Heaven could not hold you to this?"
(CATHERINE):
"That vow
was given to God!
I need time...
I must think..."
She runs from the
room and Donavan's outstretched, pleading hand.
END OF ACT THREE
ACT FOUR
(Three months
later)
Circular, revolving
stage. Spilt scene. The audience can see into Catherine's room
while at the same time see Donovan emerging from the chapel into
a large hall. He walks over to a table and chair where he sits.
He appears tired. He is wearing a paint stained frock. He has
a brush in his hand which he proceeds to wipe clean on a rag.
The lighting is dim--and one gets the impression that it is late
evening.
(Donovan breathes deeply--a sigh
of relief.)
(DONOVAN):
"It's finished.
It's finished.
It's finished.
It's finished."
At the same time,
Catherine is standing in her room at a dressing table with a mirror.
The mirror and dressing table look old--hand carved wood--probably
an antique donated to the church. Her attire is conservative--her
nightgown covering her slender form entirely. She holds up her
nun's habit. Stares at it--turning it--looking at it from all
angles. Holds it up next to her face--losing herself in own reflection
in the mirror.
(DONOVAN)(Aria):(Pensive. Wiping his brush.):
"Once there was
a child;
who dreamed of only building--
tall were his structures;
the sky could not compete, despite all its majesty
and brightness,
for the child would not awaken--
his building grew taller and taller."
(CATHERINE):
"Once there was
a child,
who dreamed she was alone;
surrounded by aloneness;
submerged and swept away
by aloneness.
And while the world rejoiced
in blossoms and mountains
and endless sky...
she dreamed there was no sun;
and without a dawn
could not awaken."
(DUET)
"We are architects,
each of us--
whether sleeping or awake--
tossed to a sea of crashing waves
for lack of vision's sake.
Then one day, a fiery thought,
passes within reach--racing by;
grabbing hold, we draw near
to its mystical flame,
like the sun being caught by the sky.
We are architects, of dark and light--
artisans of eternity,
building mansions in the sky,
at last, having mastered the sea."
Catherine respectfully
places her habit back on the dresser. She is calm...calmer than
she has yet appeared to us--as if a great weight has been lifted
from her. She slips into bed. Clicks off the light.
Now only the hall and Donovan are visible. The stage rotates a
little further, till he is center stage, while Catherine's room
rounds out of sight.
Donovan yawns. He sleepily rises from his chair. He gives the
chapel door a satisfied glance.
(DONOVAN):
"Finished at
last.
And I pray,
a work that will honor
the spirit of light.
Yet, there is one dark place left in me--
forgive me, Father--this I leave
for Catherine to brighten."
The stage lights dim
further as Donovan wearily retires for the night, leaving the
hall.
Everything in the room is still and silent--the chapel door closed
while a burst of harps float to a tranquil nothingness.
An unsettling, prolonged pause in action.
Vandals climb onto the stage. They enter left, right, and center
from the orchestra pit. They are a youthful gang from the neighborhood;
wearing gang jackets with insignias, carrying weapons and buckets
of paint. Being quiet as possible, they proceed to cut paintings,
splash walls with paint--painting obscene slogans and other graffiti.
They continue to desecrate the entire hall, working their way
toward the chapel. They enter the chapel. Close the door behind
them. The audience hears muffled, tragic sounds coming from inside.
With a blast of music, the noise ceases. Immediately followed
by another and another tumultuous clash....
(DISTANT CHOIR OF
ETHEREAL VOICES):
"This is our
Father's house,
where light sees all;
even in darkness,
we are known by our deeds.
High we lift a banner of light--
legion of the midnight sun!"
The chapel door violently
swings open--revealing a brilliance inside.
Repelled by radiant beams, vandals back slowly out...shielding
their eyes from light. As the last leaves we see he is pursued
by a light-form. More light forms exit. Two take guard posts at
the chapel door while others continue in procession to circle
the hall....
The last vandal flees from the stage. All the stage lights, including
the dim theater lights for the audience slowly diminish--the only
light in the theater left, the forms on the stage. Light forms
continue to circle the hall.
(CHOIR OF ETHEREAL
VOICES):
"This is our
Father's house--
high we life his banner of light--
legion of the midnight sun!"
(Repetitive chorus
continues through the action):
while still in procession, one by one the light forms go out.
The choral voices softening accordingly--music fading off in response....
(brief interlude) COMPLETE DARKNESS. SILENCE.
MUSIC BEGINS. It is
hauntingly meditative. While at the same time, beautifully lyrical.
It lasts for several minutes and toward the end the house lights
and stage lights start to brighten. IT IS MORNING.
DONOVAN arrives. Yawning. Stretching. But as his eyes focus, and
he realizes what has happened:
(DONOVAN):
"My God!
Splattered walls!"
(He runs to the chapel
door. Looks inside.)
"How could they?
All that work!
All that beauty!
All for nothing!"
CATHERINE enters,
carrying a breakfast tray. Aghast--she drops it.
DONOVAN turns toward the noise of the fallen tray.
(DONOVAN)(distraught...facing Catherine:):
"Why?
Who would do such a thing?"
Catherine runs to
the chapel door--looks inside...horrified by the destruction...but
after a brief silence:
(CATHERINE):
"You'll fix it.
You can do it again--even better!
Don't you see?--
It's the spirit--not the art!
And that spirit expresses through you.
In you that spirit lives immortal."
(DONOVAN)(looking longingly into Catherine's
eyes):
"And what of
your beautiful spirit, Catherine?"
(Catherine reaches
for his hand. Moves closer.)
(CATHERINE):
"At your side--forever.
Not the orphaned child.
But the woman...whose soul has found its wings..."
FATHER MARK and BISHOP
LAKEWOOD arrive.
(FATHER MARK)(after being repelled--a brief,
contemplative meditation):
"Strange...
almost completely unrecognizable...
yet I see the mural--its colors--brilliant!
Filled with light!
This would remain a chapel
were there no walls left to contain it!"
(BISHOP LAKEWOOOD)(the hall now ablaze with light):
"I see it also...
In the chapel of my heart...
an infant cathedral
opening its eyes for the first time...
awakened to its mission..."
The gang of vandals
enter as they did the first time. But this time there are no weapons...instead
they carry an array of cleaning utensil...
(Gang)(kneeling before the Bishop and
Father Mark):
"Pain often chooses
its targets foolishly...
and the perpetrators become their own victims...."
(The BISHOP motions
for them to rise...)
(BISHOP LAKEWOOD)(Pointing to the youthful gang):
"These are the
living stones of our cathedral!"
(The ENTIRE CAST,
facing the audience...)
(CAST):
"Listen Listen
Listen!
To the smallest light...
not lost
in distance,
but born of distant night;
shining bright and clear,
star of the midnight sun...
We are each
a light of heaven--
a beam whisper or shout...
some shine dimmer before brighter...
but nothing can put us out...."
THE END
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to Architects acts 1-2-----------------------------Poets' Corner