Templar Church

I prefer bad weather for this visit;
Intrusions of a vulgar summer day –
Hard rays of light on stone – I ask, “Is it
A proper light for their infernal grey?”
My heart a stormy sea, I pass their door
Into their place of everlasting musk;
My shoes tread gravely on their marble floor,
My nostrils filming with their smear of dusk.
Upon the altar – there – I see the plan
Of their tripartite god enthroned in red:
A father holds himself on cross as man,
A dove appears in flight below his head.
“Why are we here?” they whisper in my ear,
And I reply, “To hear you and adhere.”