St Catherine's Chapel, thinking of going on pilgrimage

Last Saturday, I knew that I had to stand inside St Catherine's Chapel - this strange dark structure, located upon its bare grassy hill, had long haunted my thoughts - increasingly the thought of going on a pilgrimage is growing within my mind -

I am not sure yet when or where I shall go, but I have a desire to visit numinous sites - I want to feel my soul infused with the spirit of all the visible and invisible worlds -

The legend of the saint seemed to me to be both cruel and exotic - I imagined the beautiful young woman, martyred in Alexandria - her head struck off, her neck issuing milk, her body carried by angels to Mount Sinai -

Chapels to St Catherine within the British Isles were built upon the edges of cliffs, or upon hilltops - often upon the sites of pre Christian temples -

So it was at Abbotsbury - I parked the red Peugeot near the church of St Nicholas - I had been listening to The Next Day - David Bowie's songs confronted the dark bravely and passionately - I felt that he was singing directly to me -

From the wild tangled graveyard, I could see the chapel on its hilltop - the lynchets were clearly evident, highlighted by bands of shadow - they were known locally as the Chapel Rings - looking at the patterns of light and dark green, I thought of Troy Town mazes -  

I passed by the shell of the abbey - I slithered through deep mud, past a huge tree with bare anguished branches - I climbed rapidly up the hill, to stand in front of the chapel - I could see the village below me - the  turbulent sky was full of cloud -

The colossal stone walls of the chapel, four feet thick, rose up before me - I pushed open a venerable wooden door - inside, I stood in a bare high space - two walkers ate their sandwiches - a keen eyed dog was marvellously alert - a privileged family spoke in low voices - the greyhound with the family barked repeatedly -

The family left - the walkers showed me prayers, written on slips of paper - the tender spills were placed in cracks between the blocks of stone - I read the poignant message left on a photograph, curling up in a niche in the wall - I looked at the light, streaming in through the windows, illuminating the sides of a locked door -

I felt myself move out of the flow of time - I could feel my heart beat, the thoughts in my head flowing like icy water -

I thought of the question - what must I do to be saved?

Outside the chapel, I looked towards the sea - the clouds were floodlit with sudden sunlight - the sea was like shining silk -