A building
on an island
you can climb
at sunrise
before you go to work
or at sunset
before you go to sleep
rises like no other
mountain
you can climb
inside
where the walls are gossamer
and the roof is gold
10′ above
the roof
where you can decide
to go
back down
or wait
Do you think anyone knows
more than you
about this building?
The island is hard to get to.
There are no boats,
not even a canoe
to take you there
but what I forgot to tell you
is this:
the building collapsed
years before
you dreamed
last night
inside the stone of blue
light
What you said
about the light
I will try to remember
not the blue stone
or the mountain
or the roof of gold
or the 4 ladders
but the light
when you close your eyes
chases you back
into the universe
where I found your starry
night sleeping
beside me.
I smelled coffee
coming from the kitchen
and reached over to my husband
and you were there
sleeping
like my husband
and I was dreaming
you in his place
sleeping just like
him
Did I have time to be afraid?
You threw the blankets
over me
and I entered
your blue tunnel
and I heard
your voice across water
and I could not reach you
no matter how hard I tried
inside the tunnel
of blue stone walls
like icons waiting
in time
to crumble
like buildings
and mountains
There is a sense in the mind
that waits
inside
its own dimension
to crumble
when it knows
only
its own dimension
and knows
nothing else
except the limited contours
of its precious
space
and the proper time,
in time
Your husband drinks
his coffee now.
In the morning
the blue light
shines
from windows of stone
whenever I dream you
or the appearance
of you
in time
collapsing
like a building
on an island
rising like a mountain
waiting
Originally published in Longitudes At Daybreak by Sandra Squire Fluck. Available on Apple Books and Amazon Kindle.
