On an island midst the sea she stands.
Around her the blue-grey labyrinth of
walls and gates extend.
High walls that all but exclude the sun.
Deep shadows do they throw.
There are places where the sun cannot shine.
The chill of these places reaches to her bones.
She pulls her cloak tighter.
A blink of the eye and I am moved.
Moved to a time and place before.
Standing on a sandy hillside, a watcher.
Behind a blackened sky I see three criminals.
Sentenced by that time to its justice.
A justice enforced by man.
But this is special, time has no parameters.
People call this life freedom.
Free to do what they want,
when they want.
A freedom of dead ends.
Of wrong turns.
Take a shopping precinct in any town and you will see them.
Bustling to do the shopping they rush around.
But in their eyes I see a different scene.
Bars behind the eyes and a spirit trying to get out.
I was on the quay that day.
That day when the ship came in.
Ghosting over the calm sea it arrived.
A true ghost ship for no sound did it make.
No sails flapping.
No shouted orders to the crew.
A beautiful city stands in a silent lake.
A sunrise sends its golden rays into the streets.
Across parapets people walk.
Walk through unguarded gates.
Gates that lead into a city of immense wealth.
A wealth not in physical means,
but a wealth of love and care.
A place where people are not missed
and many mysteries revealed.