I had a dream the other night,
I was entering a room,
I stood upon its threshold,
It was quiet as a tomb.
It was large and filled with crosses,
Like the one, on which Christ died,
Some stood alone, erect and tall,
Others stacked or tilted on a side.
They seemed to be in different sizes,
Shorter, taller, broader, too,
Each was decorated,
A few with different hues.
Some crosses, wreathed in garlands,
Others, hand carved in solid Teak,
Some, cast in almost pure gold,
Each cross - a cross unique.
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