Under sea, where the only sound is heartbeat,
part the dappled water before you,
its blue darks and lights. The way is dim
and blurs opaque ten feet from your eyes,
so you will have to move by slick touch in the deep
and tread gently as a fish along the ancient tiles.
Where you walk, the gold leaf has all but worn off
under the feet of other visitors, revealing the stone
ochre, indigo, green. It isn’t a poor welcome--
imagine the blue, half-painted ceiling of St. Mary’s
opening gold stars beneath your shoes.