I'd want them spotless. I'd want them like the construction 

workers ran out of wood and decided to shovel in sapphires 

and hammer in emeralds. If I cleaned buildings, I'd want 

them to be the cleanest in the world. I'd want magazines 

to write about tourists taking pictures of my buildings

and how, inside, the workers didn't sit at tables but ate 

off of the floor, praising whatever God made the windows 

shimmer like the lives of saints. Who else lets the sun in? 

Is it because if a God does something it becomes holy, 

or is the thing itself holy? Like the worker's hammer, 

I'll pound away at the answer with my bag of emeralds.

I want my buildings to be holy things, God or no God.