3.22

In the magic undercroft of my dreams,

a central temple room lined with

white fluted columns, recessed panels

of dark night sky dotted with stars between.

Above, a pale reflected light illumines

the open surround.

And Jesus walks through, in a dark night-blue gown,

with crown of thorns. Slender and hidden of face.

He simply walks across the space of my dream

room, and out through one of the panels

which is a door.

The image still haunts me. There in my cellar

Jesus walks through without a word

and on out to whatever lies beyond

the hidden secret doors.