(Castile, Spain)
In the musty cloister corridors
of Santo Domingo
are the voices of the ages.
Men without women.
Men without guns.
Men assured of purpose sublime.
Heedless of time,
untouched by war and
the mad pursuit of money.
Here there is the grace
of melody sans harmony
and rhythm.
Here there is holy society
of the single melody
in language and tones
beyond your limitations.
Listen. It sounds like peace.
It sounds like soul
conversing with self.
It sounds like sanctuary, blessing and forgiveness for all and everything.
Leave all cares outside
the stones, this monastery.
Pettiness, ego,
control and strife.
Here there is but eternity
and a balm that none
of us likely deserve.
Listen to the chants
changing keys magically.
and time signatures
slowly, magically. This is a transcendent life
beyond your haste, your real
and imagined conflicts.
No one here lives beyond
the simple voices
that forever start each
passing day or century.
Within these patient walls,
the monks have found It
and a timeless truth and beauty we all need,
having lost our ways
so many times in life’s
ever-changing journey.
(The above poem was inspired by the famous, spiritual Chant CD by The Benedictine Monks of Santo Domingo de Silos)
