Atrium

Pupils widen in waning opal darkness,

The temple now in view.

Hold in eyes of open minds;

Of wise and noble few.

My mind is harsh,

Stripping all the wood from broken trees.

Through solitude I know,

That I am not alone.

My love is half hidden,

But clear and open is my voice.

The way lies ahead,

Shrouded in the leaves.

Now that there is silence,

I can listen.