The Dark Door

O great door, Your suede mist has called me here, It beckoned whilst rolling over upon itself towards me, The burnt ash of your bones shows your wear And your wounded song fills me with wonder. Intricate carvings cover your roughened surface, The work of some brilliant, yet wistful creator. Enveloped in the night of some strange place, Do you stand alone? The slow creak of hinges As you come apart at the seams, Granting me permission to peer beyond. But alas, just as the emptiness that surrounds you, So do you reveal nothing. O dark door, Why have you invited me here? Even the mist dare not travel past The mystical threshold you bare. Even so, as I dwell in your silence, It begins to speak to me in the faintest of whispers. Neither of your enigmatic past Nor how you’ve come to be here, But of the wisdom in your steadfast nature. And as my misgivings are ushered away By the dutiful mist, I realize that you are at peace. I shine a curious light into your open mouth And as its beam pierces an endless void, I’m all at once both bewildered and enraged, Unfazed and amused. Letting go of the light, I rush forward into the darkness Until I reach the end of your loyal runway. I close my eyes and I leap. I’m swallowed by blackness and begin to fall. O trusted door Have you tricked me? Will this be my end? Or will out of the ether come a hand to catch me? I try to imagine a twist of fate That would allow my story to continue, But as I contemplate the possibilities, Plunging ever deeper into nothing, I recognize a sense of acceptance And welcome it in. Transforming the plummet into a grand sigh of relief, I sink into a holy exhalation. But before the last of my breath can escape my lips, I land, Supine, on a tufted pillow in a dusky shade of pink, Supportive and soft, I am unharmed. O sacred door Though you’ve long disappeared from sight, I can still feel your presence And I am grateful.