Either you will
go through this door
or you will not go through.
If you go through
there is always the risk
of remembering your name.
Things look at you doubly
and you must look back
and let them happen.
If you do not go through
it is possible
to live worthily
to maintain your attitudes
to hold your position
to die bravely
but much will blind you,
much will evade you,
at what cost who knows?
The door itself makes no promises.
It is only a door.
If you could know that all the time the world would ever have is in the moment now in which you stand, that in your hand the future's bent and all the promise of the past's intent is held, would you not wait and listen and be still? Would you not let such mystery poured from unimagined source fill and fill and finally overflow the moment, until you, a living fragment of eternity, hear its measured beat and take its temp for your heart and hands and feet?