I enter the chapel in darkness--
No, not darkness, but dimness
Which seems dark after a busy day.
Sights and sounds fill my senses:
Flickering votive candle lights within
Purple cloth adorning the walls
And draping over the cross,
The harsh reminder of
The crown of thorns,
Icons with glowing halos,
Crude, simple, poignant sketches
From the last week of Jesus' life,
Violin bow hauntingly gliding,
Ancient words of the prophet read,
From the Psalms confession said...
Create a new and right heart.
Sign of the cross made.