His golden eyes flash

and he grasps my hand

the warmth cradles

my pale hand in an instant

The shoji doors fall away

his white robes flutter

in the air that we create

as we run

My lacquered sandals thunk

against the wooden halls

The Attendants seem to freeze

without movement

as if their time had stopped

I catch a glimpse of the momiji tree

but we race by

like wind

But the tall iron gate

stands before us

my enemy

my jailer

The boy with the golden eyes

raises a hand

and the locks fall away

like worn string cut

with a sharp knife

And the heavy doors open