winter light

winter light


behind that old familiar door,
do you ever hesitate to turn your key?
would you walk into an unknown wilderness?
would you fly away, gathered up by the winds of chance?
returned once again
to the broken promises of dreams you left behind?
a treasure chest adrift in a turquoise sea?
would you follow a few dancing leaves,
filled with the forest
musk, bury yourself in sepia tones of songs you
hardly knew?
would you touch the breast of the sleeping woman
inside your head with
the pink hush of silence upon your lips?
hasten to fall into the dark and secret caves of her
with your rage against all the falseness of your youth,
words you have slain like the samurai of your imagination?
would you feel free and brave enough to follow the rainbow
passage of your own elegance,
your serpentine wants, ingratiate yourself in the colours of sunrise
as it melts into a poem?
would you let the blossoms of spring enter your house through
that window facing a sea, let the tulips and the jonquils
form a heart, already broken in two,
tinder the music-box with a moonlight sonata?

before you open that door,
of all that has come before,
would you now take notice of how the winter light shines through
a crack in the door, how there is only white, with patches of blue,
as if the whole world opens into
your living room,

as if you had forgotten
you were an evergreen,
nests of wonder growing
sweet moss on the North side of you,
now turning
that key slowly
ever so slowly..