through the doorway
of one’s life
are you looking, up
see someone see you,
smile
welcomes you in
or maybe it is the mirror
the one near the door
that peeks back at you
the one who tells you
stop hiding
walking through the doors of one’s life
entering places, faces, feelings
there seems no middle, one of either heaven, or hell
framed, by the door
by yourself,
can you instead,
walk through, look up, smile
it starts at the door
the one you invited yourself to
there’s the knob
fits right, turn it
don’t knock first..
skipping stones 