Constantine's Dream

In Arezzo I dreamed a dream

Of Saint Francis who kneeled and prayed

For the birds and the beasts and all humankind.

All through the night I felt drawn in by him

And I heard him call

Like a distant hymn



I retreated from the silence of my room

Stepping down the ancient stones washed with dawn

And entered the basilica that bore his name

Seeing his effigy I bowed my head

And my racing heart I gave to him I kneeled and prayed

And the sleep that I could not find in the night

I found through him

I saw before me the world of his world

The bright fields, the birds in abundance

All of nature of which he sang

Singing of him

All the beauty that surrounded him as he walked

His nature that was nature itself

And I heard him - I heard him speak

And the birds sang sweetly

And the wolves licked his feet.



(O Signore, fa' che sia strumento della tua Pace:

Dove c'è odio, lascia che sia Amore.

Dove c'è offesa, Perdono.

Dove c'è dubbio, Fede.

Dove c'è disperazione, Speranza.

Dove c'è oscurità, Luce.

Dove c'è tristezza, Gioia.

fa' ch'io non cerchi tanto

di essere consolato, quanto consolare.

di essere compreso, quanto comprendere.

di essere amato, quanto amare.)



But I could not give myself to him

I felt another call from the basilica itself

The call of art - the call of man

And the beauty of the material drew me away

And I awoke, and beheld upon the wall

The dream of Constantine

The handiwork of Piero della Francesca

Who had stood where I stood

With his brush stroked The Legend of the True Cross

He envisioned Constantine advancing to greet the enemy

But as he was passing the river

An unaccustomed fear gripped his bowels

An anticipation so overwhelming that it manifested in waves



All through the night a dream drew toward him

As an advancing Crusade

He slept in his tent on the battlefield

While his men stood guard

And an angel awoke him

Constantine within his dream awoke

And his men saw a light pass over the face of the King

The troubled King

And the angel came and showed to him

The sign of the true cross in heaven

And upon it was written



In this sign shall thou conquer



In the distance the tents of his army were lit by moonlight

But another kind of radiance lit the face of Constantine

And in the morning light

The artist, seeing his work was done

Saw that it was good



In this sign shall thou conquer



He let his brush drop and passed into a sleep of his own

And he dreamed of Constantine carrying into battle in his right hand

An immaculate, undefiled single white Cross

Piero della Francesca, as his brush stroked the wall

Was filled with a torpor

And fell into a dream of his own



From the geometry of his heart he mapped it out

He saw the King rise, fitted with armor

Set upon a white horse

An immaculate cross in his right hand.

He advanced toward the enemy

And the symmetry, the perfection of his mathematics

Caused the scattering of the enemy

Agitated, broken, they fled



And Piero della Francesca waking, cried out

All is art - all is future!

Oh Lord let me die on the back of adventure

With a brush and an eye full of light

But as he advanced in age

The light was shorn from his eyes

And blinded, he laid upon his bed

On an October morning 1492, and whispered

Oh Lord let me die on the back of adventure

Oh Lord let me die on the back of adventure



And a world away - a world away

On three great ships

Adventure itself as if to answer

Pulling into the New World

And as far as his eyes could see

No longer blind

All of nature unspoiled - beautiful - beautiful

In such a manner that would have lifted the heart of St. Francis

Into the realm of universal love



Columbus stepped foot on the New World

And witnessed beauty unspoiled

All the delights given by God

As if an Eden itself, as if Eden had opened her heart to him

And opened her dress

And all of her fruit gave to him

And Columbus so overwhelmed

Fell into a sleep of his own

All the world in his sleep

All of the beauty, all of the beauty entwined with the future

The twenty-first century

Advancing like the angel

Advancing like the angel

that had come

To Constantine

Constantine in his dream

Oh this is your cross to bear

Oh Lord Oh Lord let me deliver

Hallowed adventure to all mankind

In the future

Oh art cried the painter

Oh art - Oh art - cried the angel

Art the great material gift of man

Art that hath denied

The humble pleas of St. Francis

Oh thou Artist

All shall crumble into dust

Oh thou navigator

The terrible end of man

This is your gift to mankind

This is your cross to bear

And Columbus saw all of nature aflame

The apocalyptic night

And the dream of the troubled King

Dissolved into light