Door

“Door!” says the master.

slowly awakening from a blissful state of being, the student, the door man, reactively reaches,

as if to complete the seemingly simple assignment with a passing grade.

touching about in the darkness of timelessness, the door is illusive.

Ahhh, the door is found.  the door, pushed upward, is awkward to move, but does so none-the-less.  It is a door that would rather help keep the shepard’s in, rather than risking a tromp in the forest.  out side.

Dismissing this flirtatious desire, the door relents, steam is met with the sweetest of oxygen.  Ahhh… time to rest.  This is not sleep time though.  No.  it is pure restfullnes.  Lying in Mother’s womb.  Contemplating nothing.  soul nourishes the body.  the soul nourishing the mind.

You are free to travel says the master.

Close ‘er up.

poem_lightward

wcj 2015

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