It's such a small step in time from following footprints in African ash to walking through the City of Light
...center columns connect graceful arches to exterior walls; symbolic of the spread of Dominican theology throughout the region. Tiles of color are everywhere. A wedding is about to begin. I sit down on an interior step and lean against a huge wooden door to watch. Fairly standard stuff - bride in white, groom in black, priest in royal robes. But then .....the chants begin..... and transformation occurs. In an instant, I'm no longer the tourist, now I'm the time traveler. The strong voices and ageless rhythms swell and envelop everything. Goose bumps, chills, connection...
...to a small swell in the earth, the subterranean coolness of Lascaux. The genuine article is nearby and we tourists are seeing an exact replica. It makes no difference. The animals are all there, some to the sides, many above, adorning this small cave. Artistic skill from 17,000 years ago. Many colors, amazing structural detail. The artists even used the undulations of the cave walls to generate a feeling of dimension. The guide is giving all the particulars of the Lascaux story - "four youths ...1940.... calcite walls ....Cro-Magnon.... hundreds of images ....ochre and iron oxide ....Hall of the Bulls...." and so forth. I'm not catching too much of the narrative for I am imagining another time. A time when small flames illuminated this place...
To a 268K sound file of Cathedrals (1:06)
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Part V
Cathedrals
words and music - Dennis Bidney
It's such a small step in time from following footprints in African ash
To walking through the City of Light
The guide tells me to look up and see
The magnificent architecture from the 13th century
And to marvel at the stained glass window walls
Each one telling the stories
Of those who heard the call
So we might never fall
And then one day in Les Jacobins at a ceremony where 2 were wed
A tourist, watching and listening, my need to rush fled
When the chants arose and reverberated within
I was caught in the magical web that only such a place could spin
And for those few moments it was centuries ago
With the sights and the sounds those of old would know
Electricity jolts up and down my spine
There was power here to illuminate my mind
There was another place in the south of France
That also wove the web and held me in it's grasp
It was not like Chartres or Notre Dame
But a cathedral just the same
A small narrow cave in the Montingnac hills
In silent repose for 17,000 years
Filled with images of their world
In polychrome relief
Imagine flickering flames dancing on the walls
Horses running and deer swimming about Lascaux's halls
Mystical, magical beasts falling free
Created with great skill and sensitivity
No stained glass window can rival this display
And it can only be guessed what they were trying to say
But the searching spirit is in this scene
Words strain and crack to describe this dream
And I gaze at the stained glass walls or Lascaux's muraled halls
Different times, different designs
But the desire was still the same
And I wonder if they found what they needed
Within these cathedral walls
Within Lascaux's halls
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