August 29, 2005

Standing at the seventh door
Afraid to try the knob
Perhaps I'll knock a time or two
I close my eyes and breathe

The mind's eye sees my knuckles move
My mind's ear hears the noise
I hope I'm not disturbing them
I want to run and cry

I wonder if I really dared
To knock upon that door
Is today the day I've waited for?
An end to the forever dream?

Are the angels weeping as they hear?
Am I the One who has arrived?
Or are they merely sleeping?
I wonder... do angels dream?

One thing seems sure, it occurs to me
As I stand at this new door...

My life will never be the same.
This day can never be erased.

Type: Poetry

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