After a leisurely paseo through the fabled streets of Rome — passing by the impressive Arch Constantine, the ancient site of the Colosseum, and the ruins of the once-upon-a-time Roman Forum and the Palatine Hill — I found myself by the Piazza della Rotonda once again, in front of the imposing architectural marvel that is The Pantheon. Though I have visited this engineering titan several times before, nothing has ever prepared me through the years for the stillness of its presence.

History dictates The Pantheon began as a Roman temple in the second century, howbeit its narrative stretches further back. Military genius Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa commissioned the original structure during the reign of Augustus, only for it to burn down around A.D. 80. Then Domitian rebuilt it. Lightning struck, and fire took it again by A.D. 110. In an age when lightning was thought to be the god Jupiter’s displeasure, the setbacks must have felt ominous.

Trajan likely began the third incarnation, and Hadrian finished it approximately A.D. 126. Known for restraint, he left his own name off the building. He chose instead to honor Agrippa, reusing the original inscription that still faced the square: M AGRIPPA L. F. COS TERTIUM FECIT.

I recall The Pantheon’s purpose remained one of its great mysteries. Its name came from the Greek Pantheion, meaning “of all the gods.” And yet, no single function has ever been definitively agreed upon. Since A.D. 609, it has served as a Catholic church — the Basilica of St. Mary and the Martyrs, or simply Santa Maria Rotonda.

From the outside, the portico with eight massive Corinthian columns held up the pediment which had seen history unfold before its very own proverbial eyes. Behind it, unseen from the square, reigned the rotunda — a circular area crowned by a roof which has remained the largest unreinforced concrete dome in the world.

Upon entry, I totally understood why visitors stalled in the doorway. Almost automatically, everyone looked up! The circle gave way into an oculus — the eye of the building — perfectly centered. Light poured down, shifting slowly as the time of day measurably went on, as it shone upon the coffers of royalty and power.