I live at death’s doorstep,
Thick dark double doors of hand-hewn oak,
Huge pull rings of wrought iron, black with age and oil.

There is an immense wall to both sides.
Massive stones of granite quarried from the bowels of the earth,
Taken from the base of the Great Unnamed Mountains.

The wall is too high for any ladder to ascend,
Impossible for hot air balloons or rocket ships
To ever rise above, or glimpse beyond.

It is far too long to circumnavigate,
The distance in years,
More so than the days of our lives combined.

And yet,

I often come to sit upon the lower steps,
To ponder the world beyond the double doors.

I feel the heartbeat of a simpler time.
I feel the tugging of a familiar place,
A place where compassion and charity permeate the summer air,
A place where fear and hate
Don’t roam the country-side like a pack of hungry wolves,
A place where trouble is utterly unthinkable
And sleep a pleasant interlude between happy and happier.

And in this state I often feel like flying,
Destinations neither up nor down but waiting,
Waiting in the center of a billion cosmic landscapes,
Waiting beneath a million singular skies,
Waiting beside so many rivers, lakes, and tributaries,
In the panoramic vista of a rolling blue-green ocean,
Or on a rocky coast, replete with great slapping waves.

I may find myself in a thicket of woods, then,
Or in a busy little village carefully folded into the arms
Of a rugged range of bountiful mountains.
I may find myself walking in those fertile foothills,
Stair-step slopes intricately terraced with lush green gardens,
The lowlands below, alive with verdant jungles
And all manner of indigenous creatures.

I may find myself standing,
In that place of comfort,
Of pleasure, of peace, of understanding,
That place that I’ve always believed was there to discover.
I wonder…

The darkness of eyes closed may serve the many,
But minds eye has already imagined itself,
A home,
A final destination,
A place where I can finally find that perfect state of being,
And the chance that I will be given a choice,
Ultimately seizing upon an honorable purpose
And the possibility that I will become as one with the universe.


Sometimes I wonder if I should knock first.


Michael S. True
9-17-13