The tourists traipse; the sights go by, a blur
of cramped and cobbled streets where faux cafés
and sellers of souvenirs administer
the sacraments of our despairing days.
Four-hundred-year-old churches punctuate
limp sentences of shops that line the ways.
The remnants of the Faith still fascinate,
and sunlight breaks through hedonism’s haze.
We enter in, my bride and I: we find
the windows in a multi-color blaze;
the altar soars before; pipes loom behind.
Outside the world winds down its final phase.
But pendant in the sanctuary’s air,
the God we crucified calls us to prayer.
Vance Vance Devolution
The editors discuss the Jensen Huang scandal, the uncertain future of the “new right,” and whether the…
Nature’s God is Not Enough
In the Republic, Plato writes that unless liberated by philosophy, by the awakening of the divine part…
Letters—December 2026
In “The Left Is Right About the Bible” (October 2026), Mark Bauerlein makes a strong case that…