Thursday, November 17, 2011

The door ajar

In the eyes of doubtfulness
he prevails, it is his house.
I follow Orpheus’ path, without hesitation
into first beauty-full morning light.

The door ajar
leaving behind nobleness
of heart hero(in)es, childhood
dreams I never remembered laying out
a trail to find their burning hearts
over seven hills that one day grew
larger than mountains.

In the midst of a forest 
hides a tiny kingdom’s ginger house.
Nightbirds ate the window frames
while I was asleep behind curtains 
parting me from chiming sounds 
of a vow
that has not yet been spoken.