Between the gilded scents of morn, standing open, beckoning,
an archway calling heaven’s song, reaching for my soul.
Spun in precious mountain light, thinnest air in reckoning,
stretching white the shadows long, waiting for my toll.
I know no sparkled band of path that led me to this place and time,
I know the keeper, owner, not, yet dare, I seek to meld sublime
into the space held just beyond, heart and soul in conflict,
upon the points of life and death, one free, one earthly convict.
Above the azure honey drips, wet and washed, brush marks lain,
a hint of flame arising slow, rushing through this quiet song.
Flaxen hints in burlap’s hatch, flagging dawning, midnight’s stain,
burgeoned lust in afterglow, blushing in sweet sunbeams, long.
It calls to me, I know, yet know not where I wander,
free to pull, above, below, tear my present self asunder,
break this living’s hesitation, rend a soul from deeper hues…
It calls me, beckons, pleads me home, ‘til quietly, I float right through.
Image by David Richter – Mesa Arch – http://www.davidrichterphotography.com
Posted for dVerse ~ Poets Pub 10-May
Lillian prompted us to consider doors; the suspense of what lies on the other side; the transition of passage; the simplicity and beauty of the doorways of our world.
You can find many great poets at dVerse. I wholeheartedly recommend you take a look.