Behind The Gate
She locks the gate to be alone with the sun...
Is this not some mysterious one?
Her life, a ritual, in a mountain tower...
Where she sees her God in a wildflower;
And hears in the wind, an angelic tune,
And feels every increment of the moon.
The night is passion at her door...
For souls like hers, the stars mean more
Than any dress she ever wore,
Or any day that came before
The current one...its eternal flame
Burning away her earthly name.
Who cares for a soul such as this?
Yet, her lover is her greatest wish,
Who clothes her life in love’s attire...
Lost to the world, but aimed to inspire
Her hymn of thanks when the moon is full...
For visions in the night, dreams of the soul.
There...behind the gate, mortal thoughts grow dim...
She locks the gate to be alone with him.
Ann L. Ramsey, ©1994