The Door

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The Door

The Door

I awoke one day
To find a door before me
I pondered a moment
Perhaps to think
that this may finally be
The entrance to Love
Perhaps to heaven itself
Yea, the glorious culmination
Of my seeking, my journey

My youthful exuberance
And curiosity
Caused me to seek, to see
Around it and over it
Yet saw naught
Save the door

So then ever so slowly
I gently touched the wellworn knob
As if perhaps
It was white hot
Yet it was cool to the touch

I grasped it lightly
As if it were
The hand of a child
And I gently tried to turn it
Yet it held fast
And would not move with my beaconing

I lightly knocked
Yet no answer came
Again I knocked
Yea, firmer this time
And still
The door stood quiet

In my discouragement
I turned and sat
And leaned against my hopelessness
To ponder and to brood
And to my surprise
I lifted my gaze
And beheld I was already inside


~ T. Fletcher ~

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The true philosopher and the true poet are one, and a beauty, which is truth, and a truth, which is beauty, is the aim of both.

Ralph Waldo Emerson, American Poet (1803-1882)

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