Sometimes I think I see it
but then my head slips sideways
into a fogbank right by its fading threshold.
Jesus said: I Am The Door.
He said it in many ways.
My friend Morty, says
that the ‘door’ is just a metaphor,
but he’s never fallen asleep
so near to that place.
Why would we need a door anyway?
We must be stuck in a place
so deep inside of our ourselves
that Jesus knew we all needed a door,
an exit, out of here.
The other night I fell asleep again
right outside that door,
this time
I actually dreamed of walking through,
but of course it was just a dream,
when I told Morty about it
he went very quiet, then confessed
he had seen me coming toward him
from the other side of a door,
and when (in that dream),
we both looked about us, we could see
that there were openings everywhere,
openings like blossoms of light
getting bigger and bigger,
and no doors.
As the fogbank descended...the shoreline
was hidden behind an opaque curtain.
And dusk added illusion to shadows
drifting from fantasy...to uncertain.
At night a piercing beam of friendly light
would warn ships, of rocks jutting from the sea.
And generate sensations of safety
providing a link to reality.
Ship captains relied upon such beacons
to navigate through a gauntlet of ghosts.
And strategically placed near danger
their light was a welcomed sight on the coasts.
Treasured objects of a seafaring past
these rugged lighthouses...have failed to last.
(Sonnet)
June 2, 2018
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