THE DOORWAY IN THE BLUE

THE DOORWAY IN THE BLUE

I found a doorway in the blue,
although I never painted it,
the wax began to move itself,
and slowly made a place to sit.

It built an arch from melted night,
then filled the walls with silver trees,
and every branch began to shake,
although the room contained no breeze.

Two ancient vessels stood below,
one dark as grief, one pale as bone,
as if somebody placed them there,
then left the doorway all alone.

I called, “Is anybody home?”
My voice went sailing through the door,
it wandered down a twisting path,
where no one had been seen before.

A little creature raised its head,
half rabbit and half something strange,
it stared at me with knowing eyes,
then disappeared beyond the frame.

The trees were wearing coats of frost,
their roots were tangled round the past,
and every leaf held someone’s name,
though none of them were meant to last.

I touched the dark and rounded glass,
and heard a heart begin to beat,
it sounded like an old man’s clock,
still keeping time beneath my feet.

The paler vessel held a voice,
a gentle voice I used to know,
it said, “You cannot lose a love,
just because you let it go.”

Then all the forest bowed its head,
the doorway filled with quiet light,
and shadows that had lived for years
walked calmly out into the night.

I never stepped beyond that arch,
I think it knew I wasn’t ready,
so I left the vessels where they stood,
one full of dreams, one full of memory.

And still that doorway waits for me,
inside a world of melted blue,
because sometimes the art we make
is really making its way through.

It finds the doors we cannot see,
it finds the words we cannot say,
then lays them gently in the wax
and keeps them safe another day.