Dream-master
Every night he steps out of the silences
to take my hand, and lead me
through the labyrinthine
alleys of some ancient town,
where I encounter signs
that I have passed this way
at other times - a half-remembered
face, a name, the style of a facade…
Every night he guides me,
in his other hand the keys to sites
I lack temerity to enter
by the light of day,
unlocking portals into
harbours, vessels, voyages;
excruciating revelations,
bawdy masquerades.
Every night the labyrinth
yawns deeper, enters darker ways
that lead beyond the city to the cave
where archetype meets form,
arriving, by a different route
I cannot consciously retrace,
at estuaries where dawn appears
to draw me into day…