Where, oh precious, can I find the gate
into that novena-lit and comfort-laced,
steep-staircased tower?
No map yet aims wide enough,
no route traced in jewels,
rivers inked in green or blue,
no arrows point my way.
I am not lost, I am seeking.
I know what I want when I find it,
the twisted tumbler of that one locked chamber
singing in my cathedral heart.
