Notre Dame

I don’t believe in Heaven.

God is this place, this reverence, conjured in wood, stone and glass, in the emptiness.

God is this distance,  this science, holding our love in cold quiet, until it will burn.

By fire, by candlelight, a flash at the heart ignited,  God is here;  God is gone again, sent through the smoke, slipped through the cracks, free in the Chaos and wandering— not up but in.