dust motes and universe

A church full of stillness.
Eternity flickers in among the empty pews, through the shadows and past the stained glass windows,, over the faded tiles and around the altar in praise of God.
All moments are present in this moment.
(One of CS Lewis gags. Jeeves would know.)
The empty church is thronged with angels and saints.
Lost in the aeons, I am startled when Cousin Hector, the phantom of the organ loft, taps me on the shoulder.
"How are you doing?" whispers he.
"If people knew what is here," I breathe, "they'd never leave."
At that moment a weary Padre conjoles from the back of the church.
"Have you no homes to go to! For heaven's sake, it's half eight!"