The Freedom Gate:

The gate slowly opens to their gaze,

A rainbow parting between two soft colours,

And the Lovers, new to each other,

And older by far than time, step through.

Their hands reach, one for the other,

And awe, momentarily, holds them still.

Their hearts stop beating for an instant,

Betwixt one sighing, loving breath,

Which lies eternal, within us all,

If we would but see it, and another;

And cruel time benignly stands silent and still,

As they stare, and there before them

Lies a world that is their own.

Gentle half heard words of welcome

Are carried, tantalising, across the breeze,

Echoing with recognition in their souls,

Which know their meaning of old,

And the scent of newly cut grass,

Old leaves and spices from the orient,

Roses, fresh-peeled tangerines and

A touch of freshly baked bread;

Coffee, fresh ground, and the sea,

The distant, mysterious and wondrous sea

We all carry within us,

Assail and delight their senses, but that most tenderly.

 

An unseen hand has brushed the sky

With a touch of subtle damask and amber,

Leaking through to the blues and greens.

The grass, frothing round the base of mighty trees,

Seems more blue than green,

And two stars shine

Giving their shadows the occasion to slowly dance.

Her eyes are wide, mouth an O of surprise.

He smiles, his tongue touches her neck, softly,

And brings her back to their blending. 

She turns; her arms enfold him,

And his face radiates joy as he feels

Her body relax, melding against his.

Beneath their feet as they walk to the lake,

The ground feels new and vital,

Adding the earth’s life and

A gentle bounce to their casual tread.

She stops, serious, looking up into his eyes,

Her hair reflecting light like angel dust. 

“Is this freedom?” she asks. 

And she can see in his face that it is.

The lake is warm, it strokes their bodies

As they play foolish, half shy, half erotic games,

Splashing and diving so they often touch,

Quite unnecessarily, but they are free,

They are in love, they are love - and so it goes.

At the last then, they lie at peace in each other’s arms,

The Suns and laughing breeze drying them. 

They doze, there is no hurry. 

And then, as the day slowly closes,

And the oranges, purples and yellows

Splash across the sky,

They rise and saunter, arm in arm, up the rolling hill. 

They know where they are going now, these Lovers,

They know now because they are free.

And there upon the other side the house stands,

At the terminus of an avenue of mighty oaks,

Straight fronted, with a croquet lawn

And tall windows lighting high rooms.

The door is open and as the chill of the night

Comes to caress their skin with still tender care,

The Lovers enter and (re) turn to their place.

The fire is chuckling softly and books,

Full of told and untold stories,

Some tragic, some filled with joy,

Some of the past, some of the future,

Line the walls, lives in review,

And theirs upon a small, gold inlaid table lies,

Open, with blank pages waiting to be writ. 

There is music in the air, unknown and haunting,

Talking of yesterday’s sadness, making tomorrow’s joy.

They sit then, upon soft cushions on the floor,

Side by side, always touching, and watch the flames

As their music heals old wounds, washes away old guilts

And, most tender, joins their hearts.

The Lovers know that they may have to go back,

May part, but not now, this now in this magic place,

Existing between one breath and another,

This endless and non-existent now,

The now where there is freedom, and alone, finally alone,

They can become their true partnership,

A union, and a one, together, eternal,

For the house and the lake, the avenue and tall rooms

Will always be there, always waiting,

A world always accessible to their love.

And you may ask if their world is real,

And I must answer, yes, perhaps; why not?

For in an infinite universe, with infinite possibilities,

Anything may be real, anything may happen. 

But only if one dreams, for the dreams of today

May be the reality of tomorrow. 

If one chooses, though, not to dream,

Fearful of the consequences,

Then the mundane, the grey,

Gloomy and stony world continues,

And Lovers never find their gate,

Or perhaps, they find it and do not know

It passes through to the Freedom World;

But the very worst is, the tragedy

Of those to be lost and hollow souls,

They find it and know what it is but

Are too frightened to enter in.

Dreaming is dangerous

And dreams can hurt;

They are open to disillusion and bitterness,

But without dreams there is no chance for change,

For new learning, new Love. 

Without the romance of dreams

No songs would be written, no poems, no music;

Paintings would be created by engineers

And tears and laughter would slowly

Fade from our shrivelled souls.

And the World without dreams?

Well, yes it would have less pain,

But there would be no adventure,

Perhaps, too, even the birds would no longer sing,

The wind cease its melancholy sigh,

The waves no longer sing a siren song

Calling us to wander the seas,

And there would be no chance,

No desire, no wanderlust, no thought

Of travelling on down the glory road.

Let the two Suns shine on the Freedom World,

Let our lovers lie by the crackling fire,

Wrapped in each other’s arms,

Clothed in their consuming love,

Together in a hope

That makes music and poetry all its own.

And, too, let their love reach out

And help them to dance among the stars,

For Lovers dancing, one with the other,

Among the stars is the true,

The ultimate dream made reality,

For that way heaven lies.