When I was a kid in church I was always sent off halfway through the sermon to a much smaller chapel with all the other children. I would always sit in the back alone by myself so I could peer out the slits of the stain glass window and think about life.
I never paid any sort of attention to what I was being taught. I just started out that little slit at the sky. Not sure what I was thinking about though.
nakedpastor
i love that story kevin (i’m not far from bangor!)
Kevin_Of_Bangor
Thanks and nice to see another Mainer even though I’m from away.
Erp
Actually I think he is in New Brunswick (which I always think of as the overlooked province [I have ancestors from there, St. Martins]).
Erp
While looking for something else I came across this poem which might fit in part. My French is downright minuscule but the first two verses translate a bit like
The sky is, beyond the roof,
so blue, so calm
A tree, beyond the roof,
sways her branch.
The bell, in the sky one sees,,
softly rings
A bird in the tree one sees,
sings her plaint.
***
Le ciel est, par-dessus le toit,
Si bleu, si calme !
Un arbre, par-dessus le toit,
Berce sa palme.
La cloche, dans le ciel qu’on voit,Doucement tinte.Un oiseau sur l’arbre qu’on voitChante sa plainte.
Mon Dieu, mon Dieu, la vie est là,Simple et tranquille.Cette paisible rumeur-làVient de la ville.
–Qu’as-tu fait, ô toi que voilàPleurant sans cesse,Dis, qu’as-tu fait, toi que voilà,De ta jeunesse ?
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