The sweltering sun shone
On a bright June day.
As we step inside
A cool breeze greets us
At the entrance
Of the Holy Door
Of St. Peter's Basilica.

My jaw dropped in awe
As I stared at
The magnificence of it all.

The divine atmosphere
Of the cathedral
Heavy and thick in the air
With the ancient history
Of millenniums
With the memories
Of millions of people
Was astounding.

White marble sculptures
Of the Virgin Mary
Of Jesus and angels
Of Popes and Saints
Perched on platforms
In the wall
Slightly graying with age
But never losing
Their quiet elegance.

Sculptures
That Michelangelo himself made
Displayed about the cathedral
Like guardians of this holy place.

Intricate paintings and mosaics
So finely detailed
So rich in colour
So arduously crafted
Everywhere:
On the ceiling
On the floor
On the pillars
And the walls.

These images
Glimmering with gold
Surrounded me
As I walked among
The calm silence
Where nothing
Was above a whisper
While priests recited Mass
And people prayed.

The view of the Basilica
Was stunning
One would think
That to see
Such glorious beauty
First-hand
Would make
One's mind dizzy.
But I felt calmed
And assured
As I walked
Along the halls.

And later onne day
I saw a painting
In my art textbook
That someone famous drew
During the 16th century
Of the same Basilica
That I went to
This summer.

I saw
Ladies dressed
In elegant ball gowns
Gentlemen
In formal attire
All observing the Basilica
The way I had.

To think
That everything has been
Preserved and kept lovingly
Unchanged
For hundreds of years
That people have revered
This place enough
To keep it
In perfect condition.

To think
That people centuries ago
Saw the same things I saw
Heard the same things I heard
Felt the same things I felt
As they walked
The same path I walked
That one bright June day
In the Vatican
Was astonishing.

To be able
To reach out
And touch a bit of
The by-gone eras
Is something
That I will cherish
Forever