All our lives we look for keys,
sometimes overturning cushions,
other times giving up, in hope
we'll find it when we're not looking.
In all our searching we fail
to see: There's no locks.
No doors.
No wall-surrounded holes.
No combination of numbers
will open up love.
Left, right, right, left
is just a longer way
of going straight ahead.
This isn't cynicism though.
I like it.
Life is more
than a padlocked door.
1 comment:
: ) very cool.
i have poetic constipation at the moment.
i guess i haven't been inspired enough, yet.
it isn't for a lack of trying tho.
Post a Comment