White Well, Golden Portal

Waiting for the gold, light
to move, to spread, to grow,
to glow, to displace shadows,
to dispel the dark
hidden behind the white well:
there has been no sign, no one
to come for the water.
The moon will rise-gold flecked -
over the foreign city,
city of towers, and tongues
speaking an unknown language
the moon will not tell.
I waited for the rendez-vous -
concealed before the portal,
a silent golden church cell.
White embraces white:
against the stone wall
traces of prints and yesterday,
history and loves removed;
white well, golden portal,
symbol of faded hope,
the umbra signature of time.
In the wondrous garden
ancient botanical garden,
golden light beyond the wall,
the white well and the promises.
No one has come.
Silences and imagined distractions
evolve: memory wisps,
time slips, hovers beneath the towers,
in the shifting shadows,
accumulating towers, deluding
towers and expectations.

There was a white well
a golden portal
a wealth of promises...
After sunset
time's ever-silent stealth
spreads its umbra,
stalking and taking,
absorbing the promises,
distracting the thoughts once held
patiently: expectations distorted
aborted hope;
the golden traces
dissipate, dispel...
I wait beyond
beneath the portal
beyond the tower
beyond the white
of the white well.
Shadows:
there is a movement to the moon

and moment, slivers of gold
and white, fractures of time
and the promise of night;
the well, the premise of white, waiting
revealed and concealed
and absorbed - the paradox;
soft as white cotton
golden spun, fleece as subdued
as street lamps hued -

there was an almost touch
beyond umbra to memory - recalled:
delicate gold and white -
well and portal -
once illumined the night's shadows,
and thoughts, reflections repeated,
cycled and called; recalled
the answers within the promises.

All is slowly absorbed:
the gold, the white, the shadows,
the well and the hue -
the moment is diffused, the movement an unfolding,
folded, waiting for thoughts
to be accessible, acceptable
waiting: the inward movement,
time continues,
the moment is refused.
The shadows spread, tangible, congeal
conceal...the darkness of umbra -
absolute.
I know what I knew
now, unresolved:
that the gold was an apparition,
the white well a water well,
a village well, all white
and moonlight, revealed,
forever hue and enlarging umbra,
hints of promises I could suppose;
a tower, a portal
which I could almost see
but could never enter,
could never hold...
white well, golden portal
overwhelmed.
, logical - in an absurd existence - that the would be creator, atte