Like a strange voice whispering in a dark place.
And its stained walls impregnated with an ancient faith
Murmur stoically to the stars of burning prayers and hopeless sobs
And other things they have never heard.
And if you stand before it for a time
Strange wild things will cry out of the shadows,
And you will see the torn, bleeding image of a race
Whom Christ crucified.
In the Sun
O what a day!