“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. 
Copyright © 2004–2023 Memorious