Peer within the portal, curtains closed
Delicately diaphanous though they may be.
Is it even close to what you had supposed,
And does the curtain shield his reverie?
Mercurial racing spirited synapses firing,
Hitting all cylinders at breakneck speed.
Old memories shade a bit of faulty wiring,
Speeding thoughts as if an Arabian steed.
Sequestered tangential to his driving force,
There is a quiet cubicle so small and plain.
As through his veins liquid fire does course,
Rushing to overflow the hidden demesne.
Did Hermes once among the branches frolic,
Chasing Persephone down footless halls?
Conversely, now he tends toward bucolic,
Sylvan stream and ancient coelacanth call.
Ride the vortex deep into the center of his being
Where once circled odd and arcane bits of lore.
Now with myopic eyes, he's barely seeing
The resplendent lofty halcyon days of yore.
Never once envisioning the curtain falling,
He had striven to close it yet even more.
And when it fell he heard his Master calling.
Arising, he threw open wide the bolted door
