Trying to say, today I have no particularly
Strong emotions, thinking I could have
Something left inside those doors
That seem so grand and ornate
Whose opening is as a crack of thunder
Not quick but heart wrenching
To leave cynicism to the wonder of those doors
And find them less than ordinary
That even as the grand hall is empty,
Cold, dark with chiseled sunlight,
Its emptiness could compare, and
With inking love become a spectacle.