A Taste of Heaven

This, like the post below, was written in Assisi, 3 years ago. It makes me ache with wistfulness to read this now. Just to have lived in this joyful moment, replete with an unearthly peace, makes everything hard or sorrowful in my life worthwhile.

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I praise you, O my Lord, for color and light, for smell and hearing, for peace and silence.

I praise you for birdsong, for snails, for fresh white flowers, daffodils and blooming trees.

I praise you for the green of the grass, the blue of the sky, the rose and sand of ancient stones and the blue-gray of soft mist.

I praise you for incense, for gold and for the rhythm of soft prayers.

I praise you for cool splashing water wet upon my lips and hand and for the musical voice of a little child.

I praise you, Lord, for Assisi.

Peace envelops the town. The aire breathes with a hush of holiness. Sun and misty rain glisten on roofs and cobblestones. Birdsong fills the air with sweet and joyous melody. the scent of grass and cool wet earth sifts through the crisp air and gives it a life, a presence and a freshness from beyond the beginning of time. In the sinking sun the sandy, light-colored buildings and churches give off a kind of dusty warmth and throbbing color. In the mist, the soft outlines of arches and steps and towers give forth a sense of mysterious, ancient stability, hung with the grandeur and simplicity of ages past.

What must Heaven be like, if Earth can be so fair?