Paper Door

I step through the open door upon a blank sheet of paper. It's a room to dream into but, it is often cold, and so damn empty. It's cleansed and illuminated by the presence of a holy melancholy. Hasten the words come, and take the loneliness away. The pen is a train passing through this small paper-room. The thoughts are tracks it lays down. Picking up passengers of the night it moves ever along. The riders so briefly talk and sing with such sweet stories to tell. Soon all the traveller's will have left the station and the room again, becomes Void. I take my leave... and softly close the door behind me. - so many see the facts of life all about them, yet are blind to the beautiful metaphors within everything -