Above the Waves

It is a house I loved.
It is the house that
Lives in my dreams
And distils my soul.

Cliff topped
In solemn, effigy like
Calmness,
The windows are always open
To absorb
The ethereal blue ring
Of sea and sky merged;
Horizon bound and
Rock locked
In jagged firmness.

The sun-splattered yellow walls
Are indifferent to the
Savagery below,
As wave after wave
Is brought up,
Crescendo like,
And shattered to glass shards
Against the sharper
Black cruelty
Of the masked cliff face.

Sonorous, pure, and ringing
Is the voice
Of life’s last dying call.
Primitive, it is, and wild.
It spins me past
Ice-blue whirlpools
And I soar up into
The sky in a wet liberation,
As sparkling drops

Of residual pain
Fall away like
Autumn’s last embers.
Joy is amber, blazing in my eyes.

The cliff top: conquered.
Reality pulls uselessly far below,
But I float in the embrace of calmness,
In tranquillity’s cool kiss.

Click
As the gate latch parts,
Bare feet on bare soil.
Tendrils of flowery air
Tugging, clinging
With residual reluctance and
half-forgotten sweetness
On my clothes
As I reach

The shade of the porch.

Release is my key of gold,
Solid and precious in
My hand.

Into the keyhole,
Mental cogs turning,
Tuning.
A staccato, bright snap.

Release is my key of gold
And with it I enter,

To be enveloped
By blissful peace,
With the occasional
Silver string of relieved excitement
Twanging ecstatically and
Reverberating through my boundless soul.