Had I been of another time,
I should have wanted to stand with Yeats
and his Rosicrucians, or the Druids.
Mind alchemists, magicians.
Denizens of Celtic twilights.
To be one of the candle-lit circle,
Bound by purpose, fingers entwined--
To hover above the smoky room,
To answer questions from the gloom.
If I were not of this time
What other would I seek?
I answer, that which draws me ever back.
World of mystery closed to most.
What seeks me from the gloom?
What did I know about empty rooms
That bespeak a keyhole's world?
What did I know about golden ties
That bind the body to the soul
As it roams nightly 'round the world?
As I am not of this time
I seek return; you shall not find me.
I will be in the empty room
You cannot reach by door.
Dare to explore, for no one does.
I knew from childhood that above
There were forces played about me,
Intimations of a destiny--
The giant thumb pressed upon me
Stamping my head with lures of fantasy.
But if I speak to time before me
Stretched out, laid meadow-flat in golden hours,
In beauty does the future beckon--
I should still desire to go back to dreams,
To unknown houses of old, to doors
That lead to nowhere, to turreted towers.
Corridors that weave and wind about,
To flights of fancy, and rites of flight.
I am haunted by another time.
from Parables and Voices
copyright Paula M. De Angelis
