You can’t re-open a door that isn’t closed — a poem
“Behold, I have left an open door before you which no one can close.” — Revelation 3:8
Re-open?
The door was never closed.
It can’t be.
This door is a threshold
leading from the cramped
perfectly organized, aimlessly disheveled, teeter-tottingly balanced, sweat-stained + manhandled, dusty greasy + sticky, bleach-wiped + disinfected
Roomless room
to the wild + wide open
Space
of a universal + realized
Self
in concert with
the Creator-Created-Creating Cosmos.
Just because it’s “re-opened”
doesn’t mean we ever step thru.
X*P
Who is guarding the threshold?
What are they asking of you?
This is a game where
inches are miles.
Risk the journey
through midnight sill
Sit at the precipice
Stay seated
Darkness
Undoing
The boxes tip + tumble
behind you
Keep sitting through
the noise
After they’ve all fallen
stay seated still
The last box to fall
is the should
Wait
until the bird calls you
by your ancient name
