“Becoming Again a Threshold”
Whether illusion or truth 
before illusion, or truth behind, 
  
there is a door. There must be. 
A door inside usual. In you  
  
as you think of it, when you travel,  
mapping your mind. Go, 
  
become again a threshold. 
You can cross over. 
  
Though it is like nakedness  
in an empty room, to linger 
  
without choosing one, to linger 
because you have to choose. 
  
Waver inside  
that rapid begin. 
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