By Marcus Usherwood
I walk slowly forward, softly breathing the frosty morning air.
The wall hangs over me like a wave about to crash.
The sunlight catches the crystal flecks in the brickwork.
Their reflexive light is growing, calling.
I reach out to touch the surface and my hand passes through the wall.
I pull it back, breath quickening in alarm and confusion.
I stare at the starry crystalline light again and the calling is stronger.
I steal myself, resolve, focus and move smoothly through the wall.
An instant of darkness; then verdant lush foliage, warm dappled sunlight, flowing singing water and . . . moans of anguish.
I turn to see the shackled shaggy beast lost in struggle to free itself.
I call gently and with thankful recognition the shackles are offered up.
One touch and the fetters fall free.
Love and possibility lift my heart.
We hug and I close my eyes breathing deeply. . .
The air is fresh again.
I open my eyes to the bright city sounds.
My day is calling.