Mont St. Michel

There was born a glorious plan
To bring angel’s favor down upon man

To build a church in St. Michel’s name
So grand the world would know its fame

Bricks tirelessly carted, hand by hand
Brought with care over dangerous quicksand

Tool carefully carried past receding waves
Feeling the way with stout wooden staves

Men gently crafted both tower and spire
So as not to attract St. Michel’s ire

Out from all far corners of the land
Many come and brave the deep sand

Wishing to pray atop island rock
Never heeding how others might mock

Surpassing sand and violent tide
A mighty feat of holy pride

Peril matters not on this holy quest
For without this journey, souls shall not rest

They gather to pray through night and day
For between the worlds St. Michel holds sway

They hope to melt angel’s heart of ice
So he will open the gate to paradise

Time

Slipping away faster than the eye can see

Crawling more slowly than the slowest continent

Never the same speed twice