Of Love and Faith and Doors
I opened the silvered door of love’s foyer and walked in. Shortly after she followed, and we stood before great golden portals that led we knew either to bliss or to despair. This particular entrance, there were many, was utterly dark, although the portals were distinguishable, but only the portals, all else was hidden. Fear, for once lost, we sought to conjure the twin keys to their opening, keys concealed deep within us but which to function required simultaneity of purpose and deed. Unbidden a thought entered each of our minds, individually but as one: “was the other really there”? Only so would our keys work and only if found and turned together, and that required unquestioned faith (and quite a bit of luck); that’s why entry was so rare, why so many remained ever lost in the myriad vestibules. I’d never been much for faith or for trusting in chance.
I looked for her knowing I couldn’t see her as she also looked for me but we felt the reassuring heat of inchoate passion, nothing more but nothing less, unique warmth that assured the other we were there, or at least so we supposed. Touching the porticos with fingers our imaginations shaped we sought the singular openings only our keys might fit and amid gentle sighs and strenuously pulsating hearts trusted that what we shared was adequate to rend required miracles from precocious fate. With useless eyes opened to darkest night we sought to conjure keys and trusting it done, inserted and turned them, one to left and one to right; acts of foolish faith, I know, at least to some. Two instants of doubt rejected were our keys and finding hands that never fore had touched we strode through a pale azure haze and into each other’s arms … and then I woke.
© Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2012; all rights reserved