The road led straight to the temple. <br />Notre Dame, though not Gothic at all. <br />The huge doors were closed. I chose one on the side, <br />Not to the main building-to its left wing, <br />The one in green copper, worn into gaps below. <br />I pushed. Then it was revealed: <br />An astonishing large hall, in warm light. <br />Great statues of sitting women-goddesses, <br />In draped robes, marked it with a rhythm. <br />Color embraced me like the interior of a purple-brown flower <br />Of unheard-of size. I walked, liberated <br />From worries, pangs of conscience, and fears. <br />I knew I was there as one day I would be. <br />I woke up serene, thinking that this dream <br />Answers my question, often asked: <br />How is it when one passes the last threshold?<br /><br />Czeslaw Milosz<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-hall/
