The Art Of Doorways A peace I cannot find Tries to worm its way into my mind. A heart not mine Attempts to steal its shine. There's a door in the distance, That glows brightly with persistence. There's a crack in its spleen That holds a future yet foreseen. My hand aches to grab the knob, To turn it roughly until it throbs. I look through the crack and see, An unraveling fate yet to be. A flurry of small flowers, Springing from the earth like showers. A wisp of fresh air Covering the sun's harsh glare. A sigh leaves my smiling lips, Wishing this world at my fingertips. Only a door stands in the way, Leaving me in a world with less to say.
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