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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=360064" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Hall</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=360064" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The road led straight to the temple.<br>Notre Dame, though not Gothic at all.<br>The huge doors were closed. I chose one on the side, <br>Not to the main building-to its left wing, <br>The one in green copper, worn into gaps below.<br>I pushed. Then it was revealed: <br>An astonishing large hall, in warm light.<br>Great statues of sitting women-goddesses, <br>In draped robes, marked it with a rhythm.<br>Color embraced me like the interior of a purple-brown flower<br>Of unheard-of size. I walked, liberated<br>From worries, pangs of conscience, and fears.<br>I knew I was there as one day I would be.<br>I woke up serene, thinking that this dream<br>Answers my question, often asked: <br>How is it when one passes the last threshold?</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Czeslaw+Milosz">Czeslaw Milosz</a></strong></div>

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