The architect's dimensions...

'tell me...
i never asked you though...
But today...
As we are sitting here
And your face seemed
Quite blessed...
Can you please me tell
Where from you learnt these all?
These tricks of art ?'
he asked...
Sitting by his side
On a quiet...
Sunny afternoon...
In his hall room
With long and wide glass opened to let in
The breeze and the green...
And the wine intoxicating
As caught by the songs of cuckoos of spring...
In fullest voice...
Intermittent...
But music nontheless...

He smiled...
His closed eyes
Had remembrances...
His face had sweetness all over...

'Friedrich Weinbrenner...
Heard him ever?'

'no...'
he said...
Waiting...
Curious...
Eager...

'he did churches
There at Karlsruhe...
Both Protestant and Catholic...
And you know something
he was only a carpenter's son...
From there he rose...
At Karlsruhe
He rose like
A creator so godly...
He did mints too...
But...
If you would see...
All his works
Had a sublimity
....
As if...
As if...
He got God within...
God within...
Otherwise...
He would not have done
Those...
And you know ...
What was his favourite place...
Other than Karlsruhe?
Italy...'

He opened his eyes...
His eyes old had glitter renewed...

he saw churches...
he Him...
In Him again...
The Architect...

And he bowed...

Outside...
There saw a sweeping cool breeze...
That long cocunut tree...
Swayed a bit...
Was it bowing too?