The door to nowhere is painted gray, but it blends with the wall that shows no wear. It is a remnant of the present, but no longer can it reveal what has passed. You ponder, what was it like, when it guided you somewhere?
A valley of green is somewhat serene as you sit and wait for what cannot be seen. The door to nowhere is painted gray, but it blends with the wall that shows no wear. It is a remnant of the present, but no longer can it reveal what has passed. You ponder, what was it like, when it guided you somewhere? There are marks that show the way out, and yet you know that no one can get in. The green grass, the blue sky, surrounds the building.
An old rusty kettle sits nearby, filled with bright flowers of amber and blue. While an oval pool balances the setting with distinguished marble and white slabs, sounds of the splashing water echoes in the background of this inactivity. A faded rusty wheel barrel sits filled on that carpet of green. Two weary handles are waiting to be pushed, one more time for the good old days. As the rusty frame reflects what was once new and spilling over the edge is an abundant natural resource of flowers. Some of the blossoms are red, while others are white, like a portrait, you wonder, how much time has passed?
The sky is blue, the clouds are white but the sun stays tucked deep inside. In the background birds can be heard singing their songs of love, as giant spruce trees linger toward the sky above. The air cools and then heats, but only when the sun makes its power known. This same cool breeze drives lightly through the pool of blue, as the bubbling water echoes against the streaked metamorphic walls.
The sun is eager to explode, but its magic cover blankets the door of gray that goes nowhere. It moves endlessly through a lifetime, but always holding back its pure power. Sitting there waiting, watching, wondering, how much the weeds have grown? We proudly live today, but will we be as happy, once we know it as tomorrow? Like life, time moves on, but have you found the opening that no one can?
Many more questions than answers. I'm not sure I want to go nowhere, but, in a sense, when we die we leave all that behind… The sky, the green grass and the flowers overflowing the old rusty wheel borrow. We all enter that door to nowhere… And there is no coming back.
Deputy Dave Jenkins investigates the murder of local high school principal, Jerry Egge, but this is a multi-faceted novel that deals with spiritualism, romance, friendship, and children who fall through the cracks.
"Murder isn't usually this
The deep-dive literary meditations presented as stories, poems, and essays in The American Poet Who Went Home Again, A Mosaic of My Soul at Work, have captivated and inspired readers ever since its first paperback publication in 2008.
Married ten years, and more in love than ever, Robert and Marcie have everything to live for. But a terrible secret is breaking Robert's heart: he knows that Marcie is about to die...
A valley of green is somewhat serene as you sit and wait for what cannot be seen. The door to nowhere is painted gray, but it blends with the wall that shows no wear. It is a remnant of the present, but no longer can it reveal what has passed. You ponder, what was it like, when it guided you somewhere? There are marks that show the way out, and yet you know that no one can get in. The green grass, the blue sky, surrounds the building.
