Passage way

At the back of my house is a dark forgotten path, only used as a passage, never as goal.
Uneven tiles, overshadowed by high trees, always hidden behind wall and garden.
Untill that after-summer's day, when I walked through the passageway on my way to the street, lost in deep thoughts.
The path still was the same, but suddenly I stopped and looked around, in wonder...
A cool silence, filtered sunlight, hazy indistinct colours,
bushes, shrubs, trees and plants that were looking at me,
as if that small piece of wild nature was holding its breath, and wordlessly called for response.
Often is said that all is discovered on this earth, everthing has been analysed and recorded.
Not true though: always and everywhere there are magical places,
only visible to those who have eyes for it, dare to open up...
From these bushes, behind that sandhill,
whose eyes can observe us without us knowing?
How many times people pass by, watching but not seeing?
Is it possible, that, in that hidden little oasis of peace, magic still exists?
I'm watching through the window, stare at the trees and dive with my thoughts down the trunks,
back to the amazement, to the moment of magical power...
just a passage, an escape without fire,
but a passageway that set my imagination to flame.

© MD