The Doors of Perception

This is journal entry based on a prompt from Random Acts of Journaling.

The Doors of Perception

There is a door of aged and splintered oak,
its paint is faded, old and worn by rain;
the battered lock still grips, but shows the signs
of many a crowbar tried against it.

It stands against the elements and time,
a portal to a sacred, hidden place –
and there beyond its green and peeling frame
exists a world unseen from the outside.

Upon its surface, many carve their names
or failing entry, simply scratch a sign;
For though it seems a frail and rotted shell,
its core is solid wood too strong to force.

The key? A test of mettle and of will,
a silver shard cut from the seeker’s heart;
To find it is to sacrifice one’s hold
on old perceptions of reality.

There is a door of aged and splintered oak,
its paint is faded, old and worn by time;
and those who dare to open it may find
a place to live, a room to call their own.

16 DEC 2002

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