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i walked by the church, stepped toward the stones,

tugged on the big red door; it was heavily locked.

i crossed on the breeze to the open art gallery

and stared at human handiwork. it’s just as well —

god isn’t in a building: god is in us; in our aching;

in our movements toward each other; in our

deep desire to feel, to be, to get lost and then found.

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