by Michael Plante

A square stone made of onyx sits on a shelf in my mind. It holds the cold moon of December. The shelf is in a closet which is in a room, a closed door keeps the closet secured, as another keeps the room closed. There is a long corridor with many doors, behind each door is a room with a closet. The doors and the corridor are white. The corridor itself has a door, that door is colored black and white. The other difference is there is a lock on this door. The key is placed within the heart that beats life into my being. My true love is the only person that can use the key. By way of life or by way of death she has the capability to summon the key and use it at her discretion. She travels freely in my heart, and I am at her disposal when she does.

At the end of the day I eagerly look forward to my slumber. As I fall asleep, she grasps the key and eerily moves throughout my mind. My slumber is deep, and I am exposed to her. She touches the door to the corridor, her milky hand graces the doorframe as she inserts the key and unlocks the door. Her other hand then pushes the door open, and she glides down the corridor to the room she likes best. Her fingertips turn the knob that opens a room that contains the cold moon. Silently she crosses the floor and opens the closet. The light of the white room enters the darkened area. Her smile freezes time as the cold moon is taken down from the shelf.

The December moon rose when love was asleep, silence of the night is called resolve, and when it answered love awoke. Stirred from its slumber and moving through the moonlight love found two seeds cast from the heart of faith, and under the cold moon it brought life to those seeds. From breath life is formed and hearts start to beat. Love’s creation moved through the darkness under the cold moon towards a new light as dreamers watched and lovers celebrated.

She holds the onyx square in her palm and raises it up in the air, the moon awakens, her eyes are transfixed. As the cold moon is called upon her lips press the silence of the night, and as she dances in the room that holds the cold moon my heart is fed the love it desires. I shall dream every night under the cold moon, for that is where I shall find my lover.