The narrow passage of Buckskin Gulch eventually opened into this cathedral of light and stone. We stopped. We gazed. We marveled. Speechless. We moved on with a feeling of privilege. The sandstone holds light like a long memory; every scallop and scrape tells where water has run: carving and creating; sculpting and polishing. I took as many frames as I felt would do the room justice. None did. But still, this fragment of that space serves as a reminder of those times when nature says, "You're welcome".