When in Rome

I wanted to run to the heights.
Guards at the very base,
Abound my mind with images.
Prophets stand in line,
Humbled figures from afar.
To scale them all is a bridge to far
The walk is crooked as l
Stair by stair l climbed.
Losing count slowly.
Heart and breath race.
Its like a case to heaven.
Narrowing turning at a pace.
Spiralling skyward white washed.
Pure as the virgin herself
Whiter than driven snow.
Will l ever find the end.
Am l ready for the final step.
I come across light.
The funnels base is nigh.
I stand on a parapet half as wide a ..
Glimpses, with jaw dropping in awe,
Both near and far, as far as  sight can reach… 

Descend to the most amazing sight,
Breath-taken in the Capella Sistina.
Angelo’s work of genius 

© munster 2023
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no comments or critique sought.
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