The Key

Frost has made way for grey clouds and rain,
muffling the sound of my feet on wet leaves
slippery under my quiet breath.

Frost brings relief with its blinding light and sky
numbing memories of my soul soaring in the fire
of your eyes and the heat of your skilled touch.

Passion your artist's brush, you made me feel reborn
breaking the frozen spell on my smile and soul,
like a key releasing me to be free.

Oh, the rush of joy, the wind of your energy
blowing life into the spell that had left me asleep
unaware of my identity and strength.

Time ceased to be, as euphoria wrote a brand new song
that took us to a land before sin, before fear and shame
birds flying as one under Eden's forgiving skies.

But like Icarus, we got too close to the sun and its rule
burned our brand new wings, and fell into oblivion's pool
losing the key that set us free.

We lost our way back, only to wake up strangers
no longer able to soar high and free, mute, deaf
as indifference threw its cloak of slumber unto our hunger.

Forever asleep, we no longer have a voice, no longer have
the reach to touch, holding hands across the firmament
laughing like children, with the key of life securely around our proud necks.

All that is left is the uneasy feeling that perhaps it was all a dream,
a spell we just imagined as you go around on your prescribed path
invisible next to mine, eyes blind that once saw paradise in mine.

Trudi Ralston.
December 8th, 2014.
for J.