Standing in front of the majestic Basilica of San Marco in Venice, I frantically scribble away on my notebook. Beside a multitude of pigeons and tourists, I struggle at a simple attempt to put into words what is on my mind after being half amazed, half appalled at seeing first-hand all the riches and treasures accumulated by the Catholic Church throughout the centuries.
What is it exactly
This notion we all grew up on
What is it exactly?
This which compels me to make the sign of the Cross
What is it exactly?
This which makes us eat the Body and drink the Blood of Christ
For in theory
Doesnt it all seem,
Ridiculous, mundane and time ill-spent?
Is it
A calling and devotion
An innocent childs bedtime stories
Perceptions in the holy a reflection of the Maker
Wisdom passed through the ages
Faith in the unknown
A voice giving inner strength
Mans craving for meaning
His quest for life ever after?
Is it
Tradition enforced, structure imposed
Stiff rules of morality
A rewriting of history
A falling down the treacherous path to oblivion?
Is it
A vision of beauty giving hope
Certainty in a world of doubt
The rainbow shining after the rain
The steady current of calm water
Inspiration and brilliance that man seeks?
Just as
A singer finds his voice
A writer finds his images
A painter finds his words
Or is it
Monstrous lavishness and corruption
Grotesque creatures and customs
Martyrs tortured for a lost causes
Ignorants hopelessly clinging to ideals
Eagles swooping down on their prey
The poor resting on misconstrued contentment?
Is it myth or truth?
Is it love itself; love manifested?
And if so, what of Buddha, what of Allah?
Confusion.
To which many an answer have been raised
To which many a kind soul have offered solace.
Should we
Mortals made of flesh
Seek to know
Seek to find the light?
I close my eyes
Outwardly an image of silence and contemplation
Inwardly a fiery rage of turmoil
Thoughts swirl on my mind
Those of joy, compassion, pain and pity
Those of Life
And slowly
I begin to imagine
A world without religion
That notion so fleeting and indescribable.
I shudder
Fall to my knees
And pray
And hope
That whoever it is out there
Whoever
Answers my call.
I continue to believe.
And echo the Pilgrims Theme.